with a modern rendering, and Boccaccio's Olympia — edited by Sir Israel Gollancz

Pearl is a Middle English dream-vision of the later fourteenth century, preserved in a single manuscript, Cotton Nero A.x., alongside Sir Gawain and the Green Knight*,* Cleanness*, and* Patience*. A grieving father falls asleep on the grave-mound of his lost daughter and, in a vision, meets her transfigured beyond a bright river, robed and crowned among the brides of the Lamb; she instructs him in the Parable of the Vineyard and the innocence of children, and shows him, from across the water, the New Jerusalem of the Apocalypse. Its 101 twelve-line stanzas, linked in five-stanza groups by a repeated refrain-word, are one of the most technically accomplished poems in English.*

This page is not a copy of the poem the Good Works Library already holds. The Middle English text of Pearl is archived in full, in its own critical edition, on this shelf under Works of the Gawain Poet*. What this page offers instead is a different, later edition of the same poem: Sir Israel Gollancz's "Select Early English Poems" volume of 1921 (a revision of his pioneering edition of 1891) — his own introduction to the poem's manuscript, authorship, sources, and metre; his own unrhymed modern-English verse rendering, composed to face the Middle English line for line; and, printed here as the poem's closest medieval analogue, Boccaccio's Latin eclogue* Olympia*, his own elegy for his little daughter Violante, together with Gollancz's introduction, his English translation, and the Petrarch and Martin da Signa letters in which Boccaccio explained the poem. Gollancz believed the two elegies were not a source-and-borrowing but a "companion" pairing — two fathers, a Middle English alliterative poet and Boccaccio the humanist, each finding in an elegy for a dead child an unlooked-for form for grief.*

A note on this text: Gollancz's Middle English facing column, in the surviving library scan of this edition, is transcribed letter by letter from every printed page, and its thorn (þ) and yogh (ȝ) are mangled by the scan in ways too inconsistent to restore honestly at the pace of this pass — the same letters render, from one line to the next, as "f," "p," "j," "J," or a stray bracket. Rather than publish a facing Middle English text built partly from guesswork, this page ships Gollancz's modern rendering only, together with his prose apparatus, and points the reader to the Gawain Poet page for the poem's Middle English. Gollancz's own critical apparatus on the Middle English text — his Textual Notes (manuscript readings and emendations) and his Glossary — are omitted for the same reason: both are keyed to short Middle English word-forms at the same rate of thorn/yogh corruption, and neither survives honest mechanical restoration in this pass. His Explanatory Notes, which are continuous English prose commentary keyed to the poem's line numbers, are kept in full. See the colophon below for the complete account.

Contents

• Prefatory Note
• Introduction
• Pearl: A Modern Rendering
• Explanatory Notes
• Boccaccio's Olympia
  • Editor's Note on the Text
  • Dedicatory Sonnet
  • Boccaccio's Letters
  • The Fourteenth Eclogue: Olympia

Prefatory Note

My edition of 'Pearl' in 1891 was my first contribution to Middle English studies, and my interest in the poem has remained unabated all these years, during which I have endeavoured to understand it aright and to unravel many a problem. Many requests have reached me from far and wide to re-issue the book, now long out of print, but I resisted these appeals until I could feel satisfied in respect of all the outstanding difficulties of the poem. I trust that those who are qualified to judge will recognise that the present new edition makes good its claim. As in the issue of 1891, so in the present edition, an unrhymed rendering into modern English faces the Middle English text. A translation which aims at interpreting the original is to my mind the best form of commentary ; at all events it clearly indicates the editor's decision, good or bad, on difficult passages. At the same time, for those who are not deeply interested in Middle English, it may serve as an adequate introduction to the poem, not the less effective for avoiding the perversions and obscurities that too often mar the attempts to maintain the highly complicated rhyming system of the original. It will, I think, be admitted that, both as regards text and interpretation, a new edition of ' Pearl ' is much needed.

I am proud to know that my early enthusiasm for the poem, still maintained, has been effective in stimulating so much interest in ' Pearl,' far beyond the limited circle of students of Middle English, and has gained for it, through its intrinsic worth, a foremost place among the choicest treasures of medieval literature.

I feel sure that, whatever may be the views of students as to the relationship of 'Pearl' and Boccaccio's Eclogue, ' Olympia,' they will be grateful to me for adding, as a complement to 'Pearl,' the original text of the Latin poem, together with my rendering into English.

In 1891 it was my privilege to express my grateful acknowledgment to three great men who have since passed away : to Professor Skeat, my beloved master, for valued help ; to Holman Hunt, for having given 'Pearl' a noble place in English art by his drawing of the frontispiece for my edition of the poem ; to Alfred Tennyson for having graced with the most coveted of distinctions my efforts to re-set this Pearl ' in Britain's lyric coronet.'

In recognition of cordial help in those now far-off days, it is a pleasure to refer to the fourth name then mentioned, that of Dr. Henry Bradley, happily still with us.

I. G.
King's College, London
July 13, 1921.

Introduction

INTRODUCTION

' Of the West Cuntrh it semeth that he was, Bi his maner of speche and bi his style!

' Pearl ' in the Lineage o£ English Poetry. — While Chaucer was still learning from Guillaume de Machault and his followers the cult of the Marguerite, flower of flowers, as symbol of womanhood, a contemporary English poet had already found inspiration in the more spiritual associations of the Marguerite as the Pearl of Price.

It is indeed rather with the Prologue of ' The Legend of Good Women' than with Chaucer's earlier effort of 'The Book of the Duchess ' that the poem of ' Pearl ' may best be contrasted, though Chaucer's Lament for Blanche the Duchess, as an elegy, invites comparison with 'Pearl' as elegy. From this point of view, Chaucer's Lament seems somewhat unreal and conventional ; our poem exercises its spell, not merely by its_ artistic beauty, but even more by its simple and direct appeal to what is eternal and elemental in human nature.

Again, its artistic form indicates the peculiar position that this early ' In Memoriam ' holds in the progress of English poetry. It represents the compromise between the two schools of poetry that co-existed during the latter half of the fourteenth century, the period with which Chaucer is especially identified as its greatest and noblest product.

On the one hand, there were the poets of the East Midland district, with the Court as its literary centre, who sought their first inspiration in the literature of France. Chaucer and his devotees were the representatives of this group, for whom earlier English poetry meant nothing, and whose debt to it was indeed small. These poets preluded 'the spacious times of great Elizabeth ' ; they were the forward link in our literary history. But there were also poets suggesting the backward link, whose literary ancestors may be found before the Conquest, poets belonging to districts of England where the old English spirit lived on from early times and was predominant, notwithstanding other influences. This school had its home in the West — along the line of the Welsh Marches, in Lancashire, Westmorland and Cumberland, well-nigh to the Tweed ; and it is clear that in these regions not only did the old English spirit survive after the days of the Conquest, but also the old English alliterative measure was at no time wholly forgotten, until at last Langland and a band of other poets, whose names have not come down to us, revived this verse as an instrument of literary expression. In these West Midland poets, kinship in feeling with the older English tradition predominated, even as the Norman in the East Midland poets. It was not merely a matter of vocabulary and versification, though indeed Chaucer could not have appreciated Langland's poetry at its proper worth ' right for strangness of his dark langage,' to use the actual words of an East Midland poet concerning another, whose 'manner of speech and style' pronounced him 'of the West country." Lang-

' The poet in question was Capgrave ; see Prologue to the ' Life of St. Katherine,' printed in Capgrave's 'Chronicle,' edited by Sir E. Maunde Thompson, Rolls Series.

land, on the other hand, with his intensely didactic purpose, would have had but scant sympathy with the light-hearted and genial spirit of his greater contemporary.

But it would seem that there arose a third class of poets during this period, whose endeavour was to harmonise these diverse elements of Old and New, to blend the archaic Teutonic rhythm with the measures of Romance song. We see this already in the extant remains of lyrical poetry, especially in a number of those preserved in MS. Harl. 2253, dating from some years before the middle of the fourteenth century. The later political ballads of Minot and other fourteenth-century poems point also in this direction. But I can name no sustained piece of literature at all comparable with ' Pearl' as an instance of success in reconciling elements seemingly so irreconcilable. The poet of 'Pearl' holds, as it were, one hand towards Langland and one towards Chaucer ; as poet of ' Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,' he was the direct precursor of the poet of the 'Faerie Queene,' and helps us to understand the true significance of Spenser as the Elizabethan poet par excellence. ' Pearl ' stands on the very threshold of modern English poetry.

The Manuscript.— A kindly fate has preserved this poem from oblivion ; a fate that has saved for us so much from the wreckage of time. Indeed, the Old English Muse must have borne a charmed life, surviving the many ills that ancient books were heirs to. Our knowledge of early English literature seems almost miraculous, when we note that so many extant works are preserved to us in unique MSS. 'Cotton Nero A. x.,' in the British Museum, is one of these priceless treasures. Bound up with a dull •panegyrical oration' on a certain John Chedworth, Archdeacon of Lincoln in the fifteenth century, four English

poems are contained in this small quarto volume, each of high intrinsic worth, and of special interest to the student of our early literature. The handwriting of the poems, ' small, sharp, and irregular,' belongs on the best authority to the latter years of the fourteenth century or the early fifteenth. There are neither titles nor rubrics in the MS.; but the chief divisions are marked by large initial letters of blue, flourished with red, and several illuminations, coarsely executed, serve by way of illustration, all but one occupying a full page. The difficulty of the language of these poems and the strangeness of the script are no doubt answerable for the treatment they received at the hands of the old cataloguers of the Cottonian collection ; probably few modern scholars before Warton, Conybeare, and Madden knew more of the poems than the first page of the MS., and from this they hastily inferred that the whole was a continuous poem ' in Old English, on religious and moral subjects,' or, 'Vetus poema Anglicanum, in quo sub insomnii figmento multa ad religionem et mores spectantia explicantur.' An old librarian, who attempted a transcription of the first four lines, produced the following result :

' Perle pleasaunte to prynces paye To claulx clos in gode soeter, Oute se wyent I hardely saye Ne proved I never her precic s pere.'

We now know that the MS. came to Sir Robert Cotton from the library of Henry Savile, of Banke in Yorkshire (i 568-161 7), a great collector, who secured rich spoils from the Northern monasteries and abbeys.^ To Madden belongs, it would seem, the credit of having shown for the

1 See Preface to 'Patience,' ed. Sir I. Gollancz, 'Select Early English Poems.'

first time that these earlier describers of the MS. had confused four distinct poems,' and since his days the poems have received increased, though by no means adequate, attention from all students of our literature.

The Vision and the Allegory.— The first of the four poems, ' Pearl,' tells of a father's grief for a lost child, and how he was comforted, and learnt the lesson of resignation.

This briefly is the theme of the poem of ' Pearl.' A fourteenth-century poet, casting about for the form best suited for such a theme, had two sources of inspiration. On the one hand, there was that great storehouse of 'dream pictures,' ' The Romaunt of the Rose ' ; on the other, the symbolic pages of Scripture. A poet of the Chaucer school would have chosen the former, and the lost 'Marguerite' would have suggested an allegory of the ' flour that bereth our alder pris in figurynge,' and in his vision the ' Marguerite ' would have been transfigured as the type of truest womanhood, a maiden in the train of Love's Queen, Alcestis. But the cult of the 'daisy' seems to have been altogether unknown to our poet, or at least to have had no attraction for him ; his lost ' Marguerite,' a beloved child, was for him a lost jewel, a pearl, and 'he bethought him on the man that sought the precious Margarites, and when he had founden one to his liking, he solde all his good to buy that Jewell.' The basis of the ' Vision ' is this verse of the Gospel, together with the closing chapters of the Apocalypse. Mary, the Queen of Heaven, not Alcestis, Queen of Love, reigns in the visionary Paradise that the poet pictures forth.

The Pearl of the Gospel was a favourite allegorical theme

' For a general description of the MS., see ' Syr Gawaync,' ed. Sir F. Madden, 1839.

with medieval theologians, but rarely with the poets.' 1 know of but one piece of English literature other than this poem in which it figures strikingly; it is poetical in thought though written in prose, and belongs to a later date than our poem. I allude to the 'Testament of Love,' a rather crude composition, the history of which we know now in relation to the life of its author, Thomas Usk, who was a contemporary and clearly a disciple of Chaucer.^ It is an obvious imitation of the 'Consolation of Philosophy' of Boethius ; but in allegorising the Grace of God by 'a precious Margaret ' — ' Margarete of virtue,' for whose love he pines — the author may perhaps have been influenced by the poem of ' Pearl.' Under any circumstances, the poem gives the prose work some interest ; the ' Testament ' shows how our poet has avoided the danger of being over mystical in the treatment of his subject. Where the poem is simple and direct, the prose is everywhere abstruse and vague, and Usk is forced to close his book with a necessary explanation of his allegory ; —

' Right so a jewel betokeneth a gemme, and that is a stoon vertuous or els a perle, Margarite, a woman, betokeneth grace, lerning, or wisdom of God, or els Holy Church. If breed, thorow vertue, is mad holy flesshe, what is that our God sayth? It is the spirit that yeveth lyf ; the flesshe, of nothing it profiteth. Flesshe is flesshly understandinge ; flessh without grace and love naught is worth. The letter

' In the really fine poem called ' A Luue Run,' by Thomas de Hales (O. E. Miscellany, E.E.T.S., 1882), the precious gem-stone, maidenhood, more precious than any earthly gem, is dealt with most suggestively. It is set ' in Heaven's gold,' and shines bright in Heaven's bower, but is not specified as the pearl Up. Note on

1.2).

" See supplement to 'Works of Chaucer,' ed. Skeat, Vol. VII.

sleeth ; the spirit yeveth lyfelich understanding. Charite is love, and love is charite.

God graunt us al therin to be frended ! And thus The Testament of Love is ended.'

It is not my purpose to deal with the history of the pearl as treated allegorically from far-off times.' To do so would lead me into studies of Oriental mysticism ; but there can be no doubt that in Hebrew symbolism the soul was likened to a pearl, the 'muddy vesture of decay' being regarded as the mere shell, or as the precious metal in which the jewel was

1 Perhaps the most striking mystical poem on the Pearl is the beautiful gnostic ' Hymn of the Soul,' attributed to the Syrian gnostic Bardaisan, circa A.D. 150. Here the Pearl ' lies in the sea, hard by the loud-breathing Serpent.' It has to be brought by the King's son to the House of his Father's Kingdom. I take the Pearl in the Hymn to be symbol of purity amid the defilements of the world. Mr. G. R. S. Mead, in ' The Hymn of the Robe of Glory ' (London and Benares, 1908), gives the poem, together with Bibliography, Comments, and Notes. Mr. Mead, in a fascinating article in ' The Quest,' January 1913, discussed a new-found Manichean Treatise, from China, translated and annotated by MM. Ed. Chavannes and P. Pelliot ('Journal Asiatique,' November-December 1911). It would appear probable that certain gnostic elements link this work with the Hymn attributed to Bardaisan. Here we have seven pearls ' hidden in the labyrinth of the impure city of the Demon of Lust.' Also, it is of special interest that the precious pearl called 'moon-light,' with which pity and compassion are compared, is 'the first among all jewels.'

Dr. R. M. Garrett ('University of Washington Publications, IV, 1918) quotes the charming letter of St. Hilary of Poictiers to his twelve-year-old daughter Abra (a.d. 358), concerning a certain Prince who possesses a pearl and a robe of priceless value. He tells her how humbly he begged the gift for the little daughter he so tenderly loved. With the letter he sends a hymn ; she is to ask her mother to explain both letter and hymn.

On the Pearl in Mystical Literature, cp. also Kunz and Stevenson's ' The Book of the Pearl' (London, 1908). h

set. ' It is meet,' said the Cabbalistic Rabbi, 'a man should have compassionate regard for his soul, the pure pearl which God has given to him, for it is not proper that he should defile it, but, as is said in the Talmud, should give it back to God pure as he received it.' ^ The Pearl of the Gospel links itself to this fine thought ; and our poem emphasises this same aspect of the pearl as the undefiled spirit, the soul of the child, reclaimed by the Prince — the Pearl that He has set in the radiant gold of heaven, transcending its earthly setting in all the grace and charm of child-beauty. The Pearl has now been sundered from the shell. ' The sowle is the precious marguarite vnto God,' the good Knight of La Tour-Landry taught his daughters in his book, which, as I have attempted to show elsewhere, seems to have been well known to our poet."

The Plan oJ the Poem. — Distraught with grief at the loss of his little daughter, the poet, prone on the child's grave, beholds her in a vision, gloriously transfigured.' He sees her radiant, clad in white, her surcoat and kirtle broidered with pearls, and on her head a pinnacled crown, her hair

' From the late Cabbalistic work Reshith Chochmah, III. i., by Elias de Vidas, who notes that the idea of the soul as a pearl is in the Zohar, a medieval Jewish gnostic work containing much ancient lore. I owe this reference to the Rev. Morris Joseph, in whose Judaism in Creed and Life the passage is alluded to.

^ See Preface to 'Cleanness' (Select Early English Poems).

' Nothing that has been written attempting to prove that the poem is merely an allegory, and is not inspired by a personal grief, has impressed me in the least degree. The chief exponent of this view was the late Professor Schofield ; see Appendix. As further illustration of the personal aspect of the poem, cp. De Quincey, on the death of little Kate Wordsworth, who died aged ' not above three' (De Quincey's Works, ed. Masson, 1896, Vol. II. 440-44S).

loose upon her shoulders, while ' a wonder pearl ' is set upon her breast. The little child, as the very embodiment of Reason, or rather of Divine Sapience, disputes with the father on the error of impious grief, and explains that the whiteness of her robe and the crown on her head betoken her bridal as Queen of Heaven, and that though she has worked but little in the vineyard of earth, her innocence has given her the like reward with those who by righteousness have won the crown. All who enter the realm are kings and queens. The pearl she wears is the token of the bride's betrothal — a token, too, of Truce with God. And the father is begged by his child to purchase his peace, even as the merchant of the Gospel, having found one pearl of price, sold his all to buy it. By her exposition of the Parable of the Vineyard, Pearl explains that, little child as she was, she reached at once the great goal of queenship in the court of heaven, where Mary reigns as Empress. For the father it would have sufficed had she attained the state of countess, or even of a lady of less degree. But, he urges, surely she and her peers dwell in some great manor or within castle-walls. Could he not behold their dwelling-place ? In the vision the father is on one side of the stream, his transfigured child on the other, and she tells him that by Divine grace he is to be granted a sight of their glorious home. She bids him follow on his side, while she shows the way on hers, until he reaches a hill. Then, as the seer of Patmos, from a hill he beholds the New Jerusalem descending as a bride from heaven, and the City of God, as pictured by the Apostle, is revealed to him in all its glory and rich radiance.^ Amid the golden splendour, dazzling as the light of the sun, suddenly there appears within the citadel a procession of maidens, as moons * Cf. Faerie Queene,' Book I. x.

of glory, all crowned and clad in self-same fashion, gentle ' as modest maids at Mass.' And lo, among them he beholds his 'little queen,' who he thought had stood by him in the glade. The sight of his lost Pearl is too much for his lovelonging, and notwithstanding the earlier warning that no one living could pass the stream, the dreamer dashes forward to plunge, determined to cross. The movement wakes him, and he declares that the lesson of resignation has now been learnt.

The Poem in Relation to its Main Sources. — As I read the poem, it seems to me that its scheme is elaborated from the one thought of the transfiguration of the child, and that the poet successively explains the significance of the spotless whiteness of her attire, of the regal crown she wears, of the pearl of price ; and then, by a natural culmination, proceeds to portray the heavenly dwelling — the New Jerusalem.

For the last, he naturally paraphrased Revelation xxi. and other passages from the Apocalypse of St. John, which book indeed inspired his whole conception of the mystical bridal, — 'And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white/ Rev. xix. 8. Truly, white is almost the burden of the poet's description of the maiden's robe, her kirtle and all her vesture, her crown, and the pearls that bedeck her. It is of interest to contrast this emphasis on ' white ' with the more direct but less effective reference,

■ And gode faire Whyte she hete. That was my lady name right,' *

and the lines which follow, in which Chaucer appraises Blanche, Duchess of Lancaster. To Chaucer the possi-

' ' Book of the Duchess,' 948-9.

bilities of the name with reference to its spiritual significance were hardly present ; in our poet's mind the text is uppermost concerning those ' which have not defiled their garments ; and they shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy,' Rev. iii. 4.

With obvious delight in pictorial description, the poet depicts the white surcoat,' with its hanging lappets, after the fashion of those of highest degree, and leads up to the crown, with its whiteness of pearl and its ornamentation of flowers, the aureole of maidenhood. In the Apocalypse it is the Elders that have on their heads the crowns of gold, but the coronation of the Virgin as empress of heaven, and of the brides as queens, forms a very integral part of medieval homiletic literature as of medieval art.^ The allegorical interpretation of the Song of Songs in relation to the bridal of the Apocalypse seems to have influenced this idea of the crowning : ' Go forth, O ye daughters of Sion, and behold King Solomon with the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals' (Song of Solomon iii. 11). A like crown was bestowed upon the bride.* ' Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon' (iv. 8), became the burden of the mystical Epithalamium. Thus our poet applies the words in Stanza Ixiv, 11. 763-4. So, too, in ' Olympia ' we have ' De Libano nunc sponsa veni sacrosque hymenaeos ' as the heavenly songs they sing ; and in the ' Song of Great Sweetness,' belonging to the early fifteenth century, there is the same application, — 'Veni de

' The surcoat above the robe had probably some special mystical significance. So, too, in the ' Hymn of the Soul ' there is the Purple Mantle over the Robe of Glory {fp. Mead, p. 46).

^ Cp. Didron, 'Christian Iconography,' London, 1886.

° Cp. Ezek. xvi. 12.

xxu INTRODUCTION.

Libano . . . veni coronaberis.' ' The main portion of our poem is drawn from the Parable of the Vineyard and the Apocalypse, and is the amplification of the Gospel text concerning the Pearl of Price in its twofold application, as typifying on the one hand ideal maidenhood, that is, the jewel ' above rubies,' ^ and on the other the Kingdom of Heaven, the Peace of God.

In the earlier part of the poem, both in the description of the spice-garden, where Pearl is at rest, and in the visionary scenes through which the poet passes till he comes to the sundering stream beyond which he sees the 'maiden of mensk,' he is haunted by the dream-pictures of the ' Romaunt of the Rose,' and even Divine Love seems to the bereft father to be ' Luf-Daungere,' that is. Love the Severer, as in the Romaunt, ' Daunger ' is the power that keeps the lover from the object of his love. And Pearl, as portrayed and in her utterance, recalls the figure of Reason drawn by William de Lorris (^. Chaucerian version, 11. 3189-216). The wells joined by conduits, in the garden of Sir Mirth, are very directly referred to by our poet in his description of the country of his dream.' Thereafter, the Romaunt, save for a few slight echoes, gives place to the Scriptures. The stream is not the artificial conduit of the Garden of the Rose, but, whatever its Biblical source, its beauty has been suggested by the river in the Romaunt described before the Lover reached the garden.

' Et pave Lefons de I'iaue de gravele,'

' Early English Text Society, Original Series, 24, ed. Furnivall. " The marginal reference in Matt. xiv. 45-6 to Proverbs iii. 14-15 indicates this application. ' See note on 11. 139-40.

which in the Chaucerian rendering is as follows, —

' paved everydel With gravel, ful of stones sliene' (11. 126-7)

becomes richly transformed in ' Pearl ' ; but the words ' in ]3e founce ' betray the direct source of the lines, —

' In fe founce J)er stonden stonej stepe, As glente ]i\n} glas >at glowed & gly^t,' etc. (U. Ii3ff.).

Metre, Diction, and Style. — The stanzaic form of ' Pearl,' twelve lines with four accents, rhymed according to the scheme ababababbcbc, and combining rhyme with alliteration, may have been used by previous poets, but it is difficult to say whether any of the extant poems in this metre, which seems to have been popular, belong to a date earlier than ' Pearl.' ' But not one of them is comparable

' The metre is fairly common; see poems in Trans. Phil. Soc, 1858, ed. Furnivall ; ' Political, Religious and Love Poems,' ed. Furnivall, E.E.T.S. 15; 'Hymns to the Virgin and Christ,' ed. Furnivall, E.E.T.S. 24 ; 'Twenty-six Political and Other Poems,' ed. Kail, E.E.T.S. 124. Ten Brink was of opinion that 'Pearl' was modelled on the 'Song of Mercy' (Trans. Phil. Soc, 1858, p, 118), but there is no evidence in favour of this, nor can the date be fixed. The only poem in this metre that seems to give evidence of being influenced by 'Pearl' is 'God's Complaint.' 'Thou art an vnkynde omagere' sounds much like an echo of Pearl's 'fou art no kynde jueler.' Concerning this poem and its author, Glassinbery, and the similar poem, ' This World is Very Vanity,' see my article in ' Athenzeum, ' March 29, 1902.

The earlier alliterative rhyming poems in Harl. MS. 2253, though not in the same form as ' Pearl,' indicate certain points in common, and have similar characteristics as regards linking and alliteration.

On the metrical structure of the poem, see article by Professor Clark S. Northup, ' Study of the Metrical Structure of The Pearl,' Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, XII. pp. 326-40. This article seems to me to fail by reason of the writer's assumption in respect of the sounding or non-sounding of final -e's

to our poem in rhythm, beauty of well-defined caesura, and dignity of movement. There are in 'Pearl' 101 such stanzas. These divide again into twenty sections, each consisting of five stanzas, having the same refrain ; section fifteen is exceptional, with six stanzas. Throughout the poem the last or main word of the refrain is caught up in the first line of the next stanza.* Finally, the last line of the poem re-echoes the first, and rounds the whole.

through not giving sufficient recognition to the trisyllabic character of the metre of the poem. An examination of the rhyming words goes far, in my opinion, to prove that the dialect in respect of the final -e is artificial, for -e's obviously mute at the end are in many cases distinctly syllabic within the line. Nor do I agree that the great number of words in which final -e is written but unsounded, as compared with the few which sound an -e not written, tends to confirm the theory of Fick and Knigge that the copyist of the MS. spoke Sth. or S.W. M. In the case of so late a MS. as Cotton Nero A. x. the conventional writing of the final -e would prove nothing.

In my present text I have supplied the syllabic -e's within the line necessary for the minimum metrical requirement in the following cases: 11. 17, 51, 72, 122, 225, 286, 381, 486, 564, 586, 635, 678, 683, 825, 912, 999, 1000, 1004, 1036, 1041, 1076. Professor Osgood considers these irregularities as perfectly natural in a poet whose usual medium is the alliterative long line, and therefore retains the MS. readings, to the detriment, in my view, of the metrical effect of the poem. The omission of some twenty -e's is a very small proportion in a poem of 1212 lines, and it is noteworthy that a large proportion of the words in question end in consonant combinations, of which the first is often r, or other voiced continuant. As regards I. 709, the line as in the MS. seems to indicate a monosyllabic foot at the beginning of the line and after the caesura; but 'so' was probably omitted by the scribe after 'quo'; cp. 'quat so,' 1. 566. With reference to 1. 990, the only line mentioned by Northup in which the unstressed syllable is lacking, see my Note.

' On the stanza-linking, cp. 'The Romanic Review,' arts, by Margaret Medary and A. C. L. Brown ; Vol. VII. pp. 243, 271.

While alliteration is used effectively by the poet, he does not attempt to employ it rigidly, or sacrifice thereto either thought or feeling.

I can point to no direct source to which the poet of ' Pearl ' was indebted for his measure ; that it belongs to French or Provencal poetry, I have little doubt. These twelve-line stanzas seem to me to resemble, in effect, the earliest form of the sonnet more than anything else I have as yet discovered. Perhaps students may find 'a billow of tidal music one and whole' in the 'octave,' and in the closing quatrain of the verse the 'ebbing' of the sonnet's ' sestet.' It is noteworthy that the earliest extant sonnet, that of Pier delle Vigne, for a knowledge of which we are indebted to J. A. Symonds, has the same arrangement of rhymes in its octave as the stanzas of ' Pearl,' viz., abababab. Be this as it may, all will, I hope, recognise that there is a distinct gain in giving to the 101 stanzas of the poem the appearance of a sonnet sequence, marking ' clearly the break between the initial octave and the closing f quatrain. In the MS. there is no such indication. When 1 ' Pearl ' was written, the sonnet was still foreign to English literature ; the poet, if he knew of this form, wisely chose as its counterpart a measure less ' monumental,' and more suited for lyrical emotion. The refrain, the repetition of the catch-word of each verse, the trammels of alliteration, all seemed to have offered no difficulty ; and as far as power over technical trammels contributes to poetic greatness, the author of ' Pearl ' must take high rank among English poets.

To judge by the result, our poet seems to have discovered the artistic form best suited for his subject. With a rich vocabulary at his command, consisting, on the one hand.

of alliterative phrases, ' native mother-words,' derived from his local dialect, in which English, French, and Scandinavian elements were strikingly blended, and on the other hand, of words and allusions due to knowledge of Latin and French literature, he succeeded in producing a series of stanzas so simple in syntax, so varied in rhythmical effect, now lyrical, now epical, never undignified, as to leave the impression that no form of metre could have been more suitably chosen for this elegiac theme.

It has been alleged that the diction of the poem is faulty in too great copiousness. On the contrary, the richness of its vocabulary seems to me one of its special charms, and this might be well illustrated by comparing such a section of the poem as the Parable of the Vineyard with the earlier poetical version of the same parable in MS. Harl. 2253, or with the Wycliffite prose version.

Imagery. — The wealth and brilliancy of the poet's descriptions have been the subject of criticism. But surely this richness is what one would expect in a poem, the inspiration of which is mainly derived from the visionary scenes of the Apocalypse, with its pictorial phantasies, and the ' Roman de la Rose,' with its personifications and allegory. The poet's fancy revels in the richness of the heavenly and the earthly paradise, but it is subordinated to his earnestness and intensity. The heightened style of 'Pearl' responds, moreover, to the poet's own genius for touching vividly his dream-pictures with rich imagery and bright colour. The wealth and brilliancy pervading 'Pearl' may still delight those theorists who seek in our literature that ' fairy dew of natural magic,' which is supposed to be the peculiar gift of the Celtic genius, and which can be discovered as 'the sheer inimitable Celtic note' in English poetry. It would, I

think, be fair to say that the Apocalypse has had a special fascination for the poet because of its almost Romantic fancy, and that he has touched certain scenes of the book with a brilliancy of colour and richness of description altogether foreign to the Germanic strain of our literature. ' Pearl ' finds its truest counterpart in the delicate miniatures of medieval missals, steeped in richest colours and bright with gold, and it is just those scenes of the Apocalypse which the old miniaturists loved to portray, one might better say lived to portray, that seemed to have been uppermost in our poet's mind, — such favourite themes as, ' I looked, and behold, a door was opened in heaven,' which gave special scope to medieval artists. On the title-page of this book will be found an imprint from one of these old miniatures ; it is part of an illustration to the verse just quoted, and may well apply to our poet,

' Falling with his weight of cares Upon the world's great altar-stairs.'

The Poet's Sources: (i) The Bible; (2) The Roman de la Rose. — The poet's main sources of inspiration were, as already indicated, the Bible and the ' Roman de la Rose,' that secular Bible of medieval poets. The latter pervades _his__far^^ and influences thought, dictmn, arid imagery, while, when once he has chosen as liis~tKeme the Pearl of the Gospel and the problem of the Parable of the Vineyard, the former dominates his whole conception. Whatever theological questions may be enunciated in the course of the poem, ' Pearl ' is to my mind, without a doubt, an elegiac poem expressive of personal grief, a poet's lament for the loss of his child, and in its treatment transcends the scholastic and theological discussions of the time.

The Question of Boccaccio's 'Olympia,' and Dante. — An

attempt has been made to demonstrate that 'Pearl' is merely allegorical and theological, but this view ignores or fails to recognise the personal touches whereby the poem soars above all theological questions, and makes its simple and direct appeal to the human heart. It is of great interest that, soon after 1358, some years before ' Pearl,' Boccaccio wrote an elegy on his young daughter Violante — the Latin Eclogue ' Olympia.' There is no clear evidence that this most charming of Boccaccio's shorter poems was known to our poet, or was one of his sources of inspiration. ' Olympia,' however, may well be considered as a companion poem, of the highest interest and fascination both intrinsically and for the purposes of comparative study. Accordingly, the Latin text, with a translation, is included in the present volume, together with a brief introductory study of its history and the question of its relation to ' Pearl.'

I can trace no direct influence of Dante on our poet, though parallels maybe found, both in the ' Divina Commedia' and the ' Vita Nuova,' as regards conception, imagery, and description. However striking the similarities may appear, these parallels are due, in my opinion, to similar thought, and to the common methods of medieval mysticism. It cannot be proved that our poet was acquainted with the writings of the greatest mind of the medieval age. Yet again, it is not without profit for the student of 'Pearl' to re-read the Divine Comedy and the New Life, and to recognise Pearl's spiritual kinship to Dante's Beatrice.

The Poet and English Writers. — The author was no doubt acquainted with English poets, his contemporaries and predecessors. He would have been attracted to the writings of Hampole and other mystics, and also to the English

homilies on Holy Maidenhood,' the English legends of Saints, especially those dealing with St. Margaret. He was a disciple of the alliterative poets. As regards Chaucer, I can discover no trace of influence. The ' Book of the Duchess,' which is adduced as a source of inspiration, is but another elegiac poem belonging to the same genre as ' Pearl.' That Chaucer should refer to Blanche as the Phoenix of Araby, and that the poet of ' Pearl ' applies the same term to the Virgin Mary, cannot be taken seriously as evidence of direct influence ; and so, too, with other medieval conventional phrases or ideas common to the two elegies.

We know from his other poems that he was acquainted with French contemporary literature, the romances of chivalry, and Mandeville's Travels. In 'Pearl' so far we have not succeeded in finding any traces of the influence of this secular literature, though perhaps in such a charming touch as we find in 11. 489-92,

' As countess, damosel, par ma fay, 'Twere fair in heaven to hold estate, Or as a lady of lower degree, But Queen, — it is too high a goal,'

we have a note suggestive of a writer who would have been specially interested in the higher social life depicted in romances of courtesy and chivalry.

The MS. Illustrations o£ the Poems.— The pictorial character of his poem could not have escaped the poet. The unique MS. of 'Pearl' contains four crude illustrations depicting

' Compare especially the thirteenth-century alliterative homily, 'Kali Meidenhad,' ed. Cockayne, E.E.T.S., 1866, which on p. 2z strikingly illustrates certain passages of the poem, see Note on U. 205, 1 186.

its chief episodes. In the first, the author is represented slumbering in a meadow, by the side of a beflowered mound (not a stream, as has been said), clad in a long red gown with falling sleeves, turned up with white, and a blue hood attached round the neck. Madden and others who have described the illustrations have not noticed that there are wings — ' wings of fancy ' — attached to the shoulders of the dreamer, and a cord reaching up into the foliage above, evidently intended to indicate that the spirit has ' sped forth into space.' In the second, the same figure appears, drawn on a larger scale, and standing by a river. In the third, he is again represented in a similar position, with his hands raised, and on the opposite side is Pearl, dressed in white, in the costume of the time of Richard the Second and Henry the Fourth ; her dress is buttoned tight up to the neck, and on her head is a crown. In the fourth, the author is kneeling by the water, and beyond the stream is depicted a castle or palace, on the embattled walls of which Pearl again appears, with her arm extended towards him. I had the good fortune to induce my ever-revered friend, the late W. Holman Hunt, to give Pearl -a place in the history of English art, and by way of contrast to the illustrations of the MS., now reproduced, the portrayal of the poet's theme as conceived by the greatest of modern Pre-Raphaelites is given as frontispiece to the present volume.

Two illustrations follow after the pages of ' Pearl ' ; they are evidently intended to represent respectively Noah and his family in the Ark, and the prophet Daniel expounding the writing on the wall to the affrighted Belshazzar and his queen. It is clear that these have nothing to do with the subject of ' Pearl ' ; they belong to a second poem, written in a distinctly different metre, the short lines of ' Pearl '

giving place to longer lines, alliterative and rhymeless. The subject of the poem is its first word, ' Cleanness,' and it relates in epic style the lessons of the Flood, the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah, Belshazzar's fate, in order to exemplify the Divine resentment that visits the impenitent who are guilty of faults of ' Uncleanness.' A prelude on the parable of the Marriage Feast precedes, and by way of illustrating Divine moderation, the Fall of the Augels and the Fall of Man are briefly handled.

In the MS. two new pictures precede what is obviously a third poem. The medieval artist is evidently representing episodes in the life of Jonah. The poem is a metrical rendering of the story of Jonah, and is in the same metre as ' Cleanness' ; the subject, too, is indicated by its first word, ' Patience. '

It is noteworthy that both these alliterative poems, though rhymeless, are intentionally written in quatrains, and the recognition of this device- is necessary for their right understanding and appreciation.

Links with ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience.' — These two poems, ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience,' may actually be, or may well be regarded as pendants to ' Pearl,' dwelling more definitely on its two main themes — purity and submission to the Divine will. The link that binds ' Cleanness ' to ' Pearl ' is unmistakable. The significance of the pearl is dwelt on as symbol of the purified spirit : —

' How can'st thou approach His court save thou be clean ? . . . Through shrift thou may'st shine, though thou hast served shame ; Thou may'st become pure through penance, till thou art a pearl.

The pearl is praised wherever gems are seen, Though it be not the dearest by way of merchandise. Why is the pearl so prized, save for its purity, That wins praise for it above all white stones ?

xxai INTRODUCTION.

It shineth so bright, it is so round of shape, Without fault or stain, if it be truly a pearl. It becometh never the worse for wear, Be it ne'er so old, if it remain but whole.

If by chance 'tis uncared for and becometh dim, Left neglected in some lady's bower, Wash it worthily in wine, as its nature requireth : It becometh e'en clearer than ever before.

So if a mortal be defiled ignobly,

Yea, polluted in soul, let liim seek shrift ;

He may purify him by priest and by penance,

And grow brighter than beryl or clustering pearls.'

' One speck of a spot may deprive us even Of the Sovereign's sight who sitteth on high. . . .

As the bright burnished beryl ye must be clean,

That is wholly sound and hath no flaw ;

Be ye stainless and spotless as a margery pearl.'

('Cleanness,' 11. mo, 1115-32, 551-2, 554-6.)

Similarly, it would be an easy matter to point out links that bind together the poems of ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience.' We find in each of them the same didactic purpose, the same strength of descriptive power, the same delight in nature, more especially when agitated by storm and tempest, the same rich gift of expression, and the same diction and rhythm. But if there were any question of the identity of authorship, the descriptions of the Deluge from ' Cleanness ' and of the sea-storm which overtook Jonah from ' Patience ' would, I think, be almost adequate proof; the writer of the one was most certainly the writer of the other.

'Pearl' and 'Sir Gawain.' — A fourth poem follows ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience ' in the MS. As one turns the leaves, it becomes clear at a glance that the metre of the poem is a combination of the epic alliterative measure and

INTRODUCTION. xadii

the rhyming verse of romances of the ' Sir Thopas ' type ; for a lyrical burden, introduced by a short line of one accent, and rhyming according to the scheme ababa, breaks the sequence of the unrhymed alliterative lines at irregular intervals, producing the effect of stanzas averaging some twenty lines.

The poem is illustrated much in the same way as those that precede it, the scriptural pictures yielding to scenes of medieval romance. In the first a headless knight on horseback carries his head by its hair in his right hand, looking benignly at an odd-eyed bill-man before him ; while from a raised structure above him a king armed with a knife, his queenj an attendant with a sabre, and another bill-man look on. Three other illustrations, dealing with various episodes of the poem, are added at the end. One of them represents a stolen interview between a lady and a knight. Above the picture is written the following couplet :

' Mi mind is mukel on on, that will me noght amende, Sum time was trewe as ston, and fro schame couthe her defende.'

The couplet has proved a crux. ' It does not appear,' wrote Sir Frederick Madden, ' how these lines apply to the painting ' ; Dr. Morris quoted the remark without comment. We shall see the possible value of the cryptic lines later on. But first concerning the subject of the poem. It is the well-known romance of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, — the weird adventure that befell Sir Gawain, the son of Loth and nephew of King Arthur, the favourite hero of medieval romance, popular more especially in the west and northern parts of England, where in all probability traditions of the knight lived on from early times. The English Gawain literature of the fourteenth century, though for the most part

derived from French originals, betrays on all sides the writers' eagerness to satisfy popular enthusiasm for the hero's ideal character. Sir Gawain was indeed the Sir Calydore of Spenser's fourteenth-century precursor, —

' beloved over all, In whom it seems that gentlenesse of spright And manners mylde were planted natural!, To which he adding comely guise withall And gracious speech did steal men's hearts away. Nathless thereto he was full stout and tall, And well approved in batteilous affray. That did him much renowne, and far his fame display.'

The fourteenth-century poets of the West and North of England regarded Gawain, 'the falcon of the month of May,' as the traditional embodiment of all that was chivalrous and knightly. The depreciation of the hero in later English literature was doubtless due to the direct influence of one particular class of French romances, and it is from these very romances that modem Englishmen ultimately derive their view of Gawain's character. ' Light was Gawain in life, and light in death,' is the thought that rises now in every English mind at mention of the hei-o's name. I know but one passage in the whole of early English poetry where the knight is similarly characterised ; it is significantly by an East Midland poet, probably the last of English men of letters to write in Anglo-French. In one of his Anglo-French ballades the 'moral' Gower, singing in praise of truest constancy, declares :

' Cil qui tout dilz change sa fortune, Et ne voet estre en un soul lieu certein Om le poet bien resembler a Gawein, Courtois clamour, mats il fuist trop volage.'

During the second half of the fourteenth century there

was special activity in the western districts of England in the making of Gawain romances, the poets vying with each other in their glorification of the hero.

The Arthurian literature of the reign of Edward III. may well be considered in relation to that monarch's attempt to revive at Windsor some of the glories of Camelot, and the present poem may be in some way suggested by the Order of the Garter, or connected with the bestowal of the Order upon some noble, in honour of whom Gawain was depicted with such obvious enthusiasm on the part of the poet. It is noteworthy that at the end of the MS. of the romance a somewhat later hand has written the famous legend of the Order :

' Hony soit qui mal penc'

There is, moreover, stronger confirmation of this aspect of the poem. A later poet, to whom we are indebted for a ballad of ' The Green Knight,' — a rifacimento of this romance, or of some intermediate form of it,^has used the same story to account for the origin of another Order. Evidently aware of its original application, but wishing to make his ballad topical, he ends it with the following reference to the Knighthood of the Bath, then newly instituted :

' All the Court was full faine Alive when they saw Sir Gawain,

They thanked God abone ; That is the matter and the case, Why Knights of the Bath wear the lace,

Until they have wonnen their shoon.

Or else a ladye of high estate From about his necke shall it take

For the doughtye deeds that hee hath done ; It was confirmed by Arthur the King, Thorow Sir Gawain's desiringe,

The King granted him his boone.' c 2

This theory gives us, at all events, a terminus a quo for the date of the romance of Gawain ; it must belong to some year later than 1345, the probable date of the foundation of the Order of the Garter. Language, diction, thought, rhythm, power of description, moral teaching, vividness of fancy, artistic consciousness, and love of nature, all link this most remarkable Spenserian romance to ' Pearl,' ' Cleanness,' and ' Patience' ; and for a right understanding of the poet and his work the four poems must be treated together. The relation that they bear to one another, as regards time of composition, cannot be definitely determined.

Probable Date. — There is no definite evidence for the date of ' Pearl.' General considerations of language point to the second half of the fourteenth century. In view, however, of evidence adduced by me enabling us to fix 1373 as the earliest date for ' Cleanness,' ' it may be safe to accept about 1370 as the date of composition of 'Pearl,' if we are right in assuming that the elegy preceded the homily. ' Patience ' and ' Cleanness ' must certainly belong to about the same time. The workmanship and skill of ' Gawain,' to say nothing of its tone and pervading spirit, are so transcendent as to make it difficult for one to assign the poem to a date at all near that of ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience,' unless we have here an instance of an early achievement of a poet's genius which, for some cause or other affecting its buoyancy, joy in life, and enthusiasm for romance, failed to maintain its power. On the whole, I am at present inclined to the view that a long period intervened between the homiletic poems and the matured excellence of ' Gawain.' Yet again in this poem we have a striking reference to the pearl :

' See Preface to ' Cleanness.'

/A

' As perle bi Je quite pese is of prys more, So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi ofer gay knyjtej,' —

' as the pearl is of greater price than white pease, so is Gawain, in good faith, than other gay knights.'

Huchown and the Alliterative Poems.— And who was the poet to whom we are indebted for these remarkable , ' ,

poems? The question must still remain unanswered. _ f J

Unfortunately no tradition concerning their authorship has , ~ •-r >/ .

come down to us, and no definite link has as yet been dis- ( )*> ~^

covered connecting the poems with any name. Some fift y li^'*^

yeairs back, Dr. Guest, the historian of English Rhythmip set up a claim for a Scotch poet, Huchown by name, but this claim cannot stand the test of philological analysis, in spite of any circumstantial evidence in its favour. The story of Huchown's supposed connection with the poems is an interesting piece of literary history. Andrew of Wyntown, in his ' Orygynale Cronykil ' of Scotland, written at the end of the fourteenth century, mentions a poet, Huchown of the ' Awle Ryale,' who, in his ' Gest Hystoriale,'

' Called Lucius Hiberius Emperoure, When King of Britain was Arthoure.'

The chronicler excuses the poet, for the mistake was not originally his, and adds enthusiastically :

' men off gud dyscretyowne Suld excuse and love Huchowne, That cunnand was in literature. He made the gret Geste of Arthure And the Awntyre of Gawane, The Pystyll als off Swete Susane. He wes curyws in his style, Fayre off fecund, and subtylle.

xxxviii INTRODUCTION

And ay to plesans and delyte Made in metyre mete his dyte, Lytil or nocht nevyrtheles Waverand fra the suthfastnes.'

Huchown was therefore the author of an 'Adventure of Gawain.' Is the poem referred to identical with the 'Gawain ' poem described above, the romance written by the author of ' Pearl ' ? Most certainly not. The ' Pystyll of Susan ' mentioned by Wyntown is extant ; all are agreed in regarding it as Huchown's work : it is a rhyming poem, arid therefore of special worth as a criterion of dialect. The result of a comparative study of this poem and of 'Pearl' proves conclusively that they are in different dialects, the one belonging to a district north of the Tweed, the other to a more southern district. ' Pearl ' cannot, therefore, be the work of the poet of the ' Pystyll' ; and if this is true of ' Pearl,' it is equally true of 'Gawain.' It is, moreover, very probable that Huchown's 'gret geste of Arthure' is preserved to us, though in a changed dialect and with some slight intentional modifications, in the alliterative ' Morte Arthur,' and that the ' Awntyre of Gawane ' may be identified with the ' Awntyrs off Arthure at the Terne Wathelyne/ which, as far as diction is concerned, is closely connected with the ' Pystyll of Susan.'

Dr. Guest rested his claims for Huchown not merely on this passage from Wyntoun's Chronicle. In the blank space at the head of ' Gawain and the Green Knight,' a hand of the fifteenth century has written ' Hugo de / and this piece of evidence seemed to him to confirm his view of the authorship of the poem. In the first place, it is not certain that the inscription is intended for the name of the author, but even had we clear proof that ' Hugo de aula regali ' was to

be read, the conclusion, from internal evidence, would be forced upon us, that the writer had made a mistake by no means uncommon in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The great masters of literature have always been made the official fathers of unclaimed productions. It would be easy enough to illustrate this from the pseudo-Chaucerian poems, but an interesting parallel may be adduced from the literary history of Huchown's great contemporary, Barbour. In the Cambridge University Library there is a MS. of Lydgate's ' Troy Book.' Some portion of Lydgate's work has been lost and is replaced by extracts from a version by a northern poet. The scribe definitely assigned these inserted passages to Barbour merely on the evidence of a general likeness in style, but minute investigation places it beyond doubt that the fragments are not from the pen of the author of the ' Bruce.'

The works of five individual poets have, at different times, been fathered on Huchown ; ^ of these poems some are undoubtedly West Midland, others genuinely Scottish, but all of them belong to the great period of aUiterative poetry, the second half of the fourteenth century or the early years of the fifteenth, and show the influence of that school of English poets that strove on the one hand to revive the old English measure, and on the other to combine this archaic rhythm with the most complex of Romance metres. In the fifteenth century the tradition of this West Midland influence

' Dr. George Neilson, in his ' Huchown of the Awle Ryale, ' 1902, attempted to assign to Huchown the great bulk of anonymous alliterative poetry, includinji; 'Pearl.' Among other criticisms of Dr. Neilson's work, Dr. MacCracken's 'Concerning Huchown' (Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, 1910) should be noted.

still lived on north of the Tweed, but the greatest of Scottish bards turned to the East Midland poets for their forms, and, following the example of their poet-king, were fascinated by the irresistible spell of Chaucer's genius. This influence of the great English poet on the chief poets of Scotland has received abundant recognition ; not so the earlier influence of the West Midland poets, whose best representative is the nameless author of ' Pearl.'

From among all these poems only one can be singled out as being possibly by the author of ' Pearl.' On the strength of diction, metre, and other characteristics, the anonymous alliterative poem of ' Erkenwald,''^ though it lacks the peculiar intensity of ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience,' may be an early or very late work, unless we have here an imitation by an enthusiastic disciple. The theme, however, seems to point to London as its place of origin, with about 1386 as its probable date. Anyhow, the poem is a noteworthy product of the school, and must be linked with ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience,' even in the matter of the quatrain arrangement.''

Imagiuaiy Biography. — But though he be nameless, the poet's personality is so vividly impressed on his work that one may be forgiven the somewhat hazardous task of attempting to evolve an account of his earlier life from mere conjecture and inference. Such an attempt, though fanciful, at all events serves to link together certain facts and impressions, and with this reservation cannot but prove helpful.

^ An edition of ' Erkenwald,' edited by me, is appearing in ' Select Early English Poems.' The pagan judge, who is described as ' ane heire of anoye,' i. e. a justice in eyre, oyer and terminer, may well have been drawn from some legal contemporary, or as an ideal picture by way of contrast.

' The only other alliterative poem outside this group showing this quatrain arrangement is the ' Siege of Jerusalem. '

If documentary evidence is ever discovered, hypothetical conjecture will no doubt be put to a "very severe test.

The poet was born about the same time as Chaucer, 1340. His birthplace was somewhere in Lancashire, or perhaps a little to the north,* but under no circumstances in any district beyond the Tweed. The evidence of dialect proves this abundantly. The wild solitudes of the Cumbrian coast, near his native home, seem to have had special attraction for him. Like a later and greater poet, he must already as a youth have felt the subtle spell of Nature's varying aspects in those West Midland parts ; he too loved to contemplate, even in his childhood,

' . . . Presences of Nature in the sky And on the earth ! . . . Visions of the hills And souls of lonely places ! '

Wordsworth's country may perhaps justly claim our poet as one of its sons.

Concerning the condition of life to which the boy belonged, we have no definite clue ; but I am inclined to infer that his father was closely connected, in some official capacity, with a family of high rank, and that it was amid the gay scenes that brightened life in some great castle that the poet's earliest years were passed. In later life he loved to picture

' It is noteworthy that the poet in his rhymes uses such Northern forms as wate (502), abate (617), stratej (1043), mare (145), brade (138), ware (151) (cp. wore, 154), side by side with his more common forms. In one case (byswykej, 568) he uses the Northern ■es for IS. pr. ind. With reference to the phonology of the poem in general, Fick's investigation ( ' Zum Mittelenglischen Gedicht von der Perle,' Kiel, 1885), generally referred to as though authoritative, must now be considered obsolete ; and to a large extent the same is true of Knigge's ' Die Sprache des Dichters von Sir Gawain, ' Marburg, 1885.

this home, with its battlements and towers, its stately hall and spacious parks. There too, perhaps, the minstrel's tales of chivalry first revealed to him the rich world of medieval Romance, and made him yearn to gain for himself a worthy place among a noble band of contemporary English poets, whose memory is now, for the most part, lost to us for ever.

The English poets were certainly his masters in poetic art, and although he had read the ' Roman de la Rose,' and the chief products of early and contemporary French literature, their influence was comparatively slight as far as the general tone of his poetry is concerned. It is a significant fact that the poet's only direct reference to the ' Roman ' speaks of 'Clopyngel's dene Rose.' Indeed, the intensely religious spirit of the poems, together with the knowledge they undoubtedly display of Holy Writ, makes it probable that the youth may have been destined for the service of the Church. He must have studied sacred and profane literature at some monastic school, or at one of the universities. It is evident that theology and scholasticism had formed an important part of his education. But the author of ' Pearl' was certainly no priest.

The four poems preserved in the Cottonian collection seem to have belonged to eventful periods of the poet's life. ' Gawain,' written probably for some special occasion, and in honour of some nobleman, perhaps the generous patron to whose household the poet vyas attached, is remarkable for the evidence it contains of the writer's minute knowledge of the ' gentle science of woodcraft,' and of all that pertained to the higher social life of that time. He has introduced into his romance elaborate descriptions of the arming of a knight, and of the hunting of the deer, the boar, and the fox. From his evident enthusiasm it is clear that he wrote

from personal experience of the pleasures of the chase, and that he was accustomed to the courtly life described by him.

The poet had married ; his wedded life was unhappy ; the object of his love had disappointed him, and had perhaps proved unfaithful. He had passed through some such experience before ' Gawain ' was written. The poet was, I think, speaking for himself when he made his knight exclaim : ' It is no marvel for a man to come to sorrow through woman's wiles ; so was Adam beguiled, and Solomon and Samson and David, and many more. It were indeed great bliss for a man to love them well and believe them not — if one but could.'

'Gawain' is the story of a noble knight, bearing the shield of Mary, triumphing over sore temptations that beset his vows of chastity. How often, while drawing his ideal picture of the Knight of Courtesy, did the poet's thoughts recur to the reality of his own life ! Perhaps in a musing mood he wrote in the blank space at the head of one of the illustrations in his MS. the suggestive couplet :

' My mind is much on one, who will not make amend ; Sometime she was true as stone, and from shame could her defend.'

His wedded life had brought him happiness — an only child, his 'little queen.' He perhaps named the child 'Margery ' or ' Marguerite ' ; she was his ' pearl,' — emblem of holiness and innocence. But his happiness was short-lived; before two years had passed the poet's home was desolate.'

' It is noteworthy that throughout the poem there is no single reference, such as one might expect, to the mother of the child. The poet's first words when he beholds his transfigured ' Pearl ' are significant :

His grief found expression in verse : a heavenly vision of his lost jewel brought him comfort and taught him resignation. On the child's grave he placed a garland of song, blooming yet, after the lapse of five hundred years.

With the loss of his dearest possession a blight seems to have fallen on his life, and even poetry may have lost its charm for him. The lyrist became the stern moralist of ' Cleanness ' and ' Patience.' Other troubles, too, seem to have befallen him. ' Patience ' seems to us to be almost as autobiographical as ' Pearl.' The poet is evidently preaching to himself the lesson of fortitude and hope amid misery, pain, and poverty. Something had evidently happened to deprive him of the means of subsistence. 'Poverty and Patience,' he exclaims, ' are needs playfellows ' :

' Be bold and be patient, in pain and in joy, For he that rends his clothes too rashly Must sit anon in worse to sew them together. Wherefore when poverty presses me and pains enow, Calmly in sufferance it behoves me to be patient ; Despite penance and pain, to prove to men's sight That patience is a noble point, though it oft displease. '

'Cleanness' and 'Patience' were probably written not long after ' Pearl.' But the vivid descriptions of the sea in these two poems perhaps justify the inference that the poet may have sought distraction in travel, and may have weathered the fierce tempests he describes.

'"O Pearl," quoth I . . . ' ' Art thou my Pearl that I have playned, Regretted by me, so lone ? " '

[11. 241-3. This is consistent with my theory concerning the poet's married life.

Perchance new joy came into his life, and into whatever occupation he may have thrown himself, he may still have found in poetry life's chief delight. In this period the attraction of Romance and Chivalry may well have reasserted itself Was ' Gawain ' the outcome of this happier condition, or did it, in spite of many considerations gainsaying the view, belong to the period of his early happiness ?

If, late in life, he wrote the poem on 'Erkenwald,' the great Bishop of London, whose magnificent shrine was the glory of St. Paul's Cathedral, and whose festival Bishop Braybroke re-established in the year 1386, it would seem that the poet may have found occupation in the City of London, in some secular office, allowing him leisure for poetry or theology or philosophy, or other intellectual exercise. It is pleasant to think of the possibility of the poet of 'Pearl' and Chaucer being brought together as London officials. Certainly it was a West Midlander who wrote ' Erkenwald,' but the poem is a London poem, without any doubt, and may, I think, have been associated with Bishop Braybroke's efforts to establish the due observance of St. Erkenwald's Day.

If the poet took any part in the Church controversies then troubling men's minds, his attitude would have been in the main conservative. Full of intense hatred towards all forms of vice, especially immorality, he would have spoken out boldly against ignoble priests and friars, and all such servants of the Church, who, preaching righteousness, lived unrighteously. But whatever his views on theological questions, his allegiance to the authority of the Church, to Papal supremacy, and to the doctrine of Rome, and his attitude towards the amenities of

social life and wealth, would have kept him aloof from Wycliffe and his partisans. Professor Carleton Brown has well said that his religious outlook was ' evangelical ' rather than ecclesiastical.^

The • Philosophical Strode.'— It is indeed remarkable that no tradition has been handed down to us concerning one of the most distinctive of fourteenth-century writers. It can only be accounted for by the fact that, in the first place, his instrument of expression was regarded as uncouth by the

• Professor Carleton Brown in his article on ' The Author of The /■ear/ considered in the Light of his Theological Opinions' (Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, Vol. XIX., 1904) has some interesting and valuable observations on the relation of the poem to the theology of the time. He holds, against my view, that the assumption of a necessary antagonism between our author and Wycliffe is unwarranted. He deals also with the attitude of the poet, with special reference to the paraphrase of the Parable of the Vineyard, towards the views held by some of his contemporary theologians, notably Bradwardine.

As an indication that the author had in miiid the discussions of the theologians, Professor Carleton Brown refers to some of the terms which he employs. He takes as his example the word 'pretermynable,' 1. 596, suggesting a definite acquaintance with the ' predeterminatio ' of the Schoolmen. But see my Note on what I think is the correct interpretation of the word. I am convinced that the poem is not primarily associated with questions of contemporary theology, though, as Professor Brown points out, ' from Augustine to the fourteenth century the "baptized infant" played an important rôle in the treatises of the theologians.'

More recently Dr. R. M. Garrett in ' The Pearl : an Interpretation' (University of Washington Publications, IV., No. I, 1918), argues that ' Pearl ' ' has in its central idea the fundamental teaching of the Eucharist.' The article, though unconvincing, is of special interest for its quotations from the ' Epistola Sancti Hilarii ad Abram Filiam Suam ' (to which I have already referred) ; and for calling attention to this charming piece of literature Professor Garrett deserves the best thanks of students of the subject.

generality of cultured Englishmen, and, in the second place, that the bulk of his poetry was small as compared with the writings of his better known contemporaries. Langland was indeed the only West Midland poet who gained anything approaching national recognition and escaped the oblivion of mere local fame. Nevertheless, one must not despair of finding some evidence that may settle, once for all, the problem of the poet's personality. Indeed, of one fourteenth-century writer, whose name and Latin writings are preserved, it is recorded that during his youth and early manhood he was an ardent wooer of the Muses, and that his fame rested on a poem described as an 'Elegy' and possibly as a 'Vision.' Our knowledge of this writer is mainly due to the happy chance that Chaucer seems to have been his friend and admirer, and dedicated to him no less important a poem than his ' Troilus and Creseide ' :

' O moral Gower this book I direct To thee and to the Philosophical Strode, To vouchsafe there need is for to correct, To your benignities and zelis good.'

The antiquary Leland was the first to inquire concerning the second of the two names held in such esteem by Chaucer. In an old catalogue of worthies of Merton College, drawn up in the early years of the fifteenth century, and still preserved in the College muniment room, he discovered the following most valuable reference :

' Radulphus Strode, nobilis poeta fuit et versificavit librum elegiacum vocatum Phantasma Radulphi.'

This Ralph Strode, poet, is clearly to be identified with the famous philosopher of that name whose philosophical works hold an important place in the history of medieval logic. He was also famous in his time as a controversialist

with Wycliffe, and from statements by Wycliffe it is possible to gain some insight into Strode's religious views. But neither his theology nor his philosophy help us to identify him with the writer of the poems in the Cottonian collection. 1

The evidence, such as it is, tending to connect Strode and the writer of 'Pearl,' is derived from the following considerations. The Merton description {\i phanfasma may be taken as a somewhat crude Latin rendering of ' dream ' or some such word) does not apply to any known poem so well as to ' Pearl.' Again, the peculiar force of Chaucer's dedication should be considered. Chaucer felt that his ' Troilus and Creseide ' was open to the charge of being somewhat too free ; wherefore, in a spirit of banter, he evidently offered it to the correction of two fellow-poets whose writings aimed primarily at enforcing moral virtue. Now, if asked to name the very antithesis of 'Troilus,' a student of fourteenth-century literature could choose no better instance than the romance of 'Gawain.' Further, there is a tradition that Strode, leaving his native land, journeyed through France, Germany, and Italy, and visited Syria and the Holy Land. 'An Itinerary to the Holy Land,' by this writer, seems to have been known to Nicholas

' In my article on Strode, in the Dictionary of National Biography, will be found the first attempt to dispose of the legend of Strode's description as -^ monk of Jedburgh Abbey, and to write an authentic biography of the famous Schoolman. As regards the possible identification of Chaucer's 'philosophical Strode' with the author of ' Pearl,' the theory, whatever maybe its worth, was mine, in spite of a wrongful claim made by Dr. Horstmann.

Professor Carleton Brown, in his article to which I have referred, indicates many points that tell against Strode's authorship, though I do not agree with his attempt to differentiate the poet, the philosopher, and the lawyer.

Brigham, the enthusiastic devotee of Chaucer, to whom we owe his monument in Westminster Abbey. According to Antony Wood, Strode's name as a fellow of Merton occurs for the last time about 1361.

The statement, still repeated in text-books on Chaucer, to the effect that Strode was a Scotch monk in Jedburgh Abbey, was due to the mendacious Dempster, who in his desire to claim the logician for Scotland described Strode as a Scotch monk, who had received his early education at Dryburgh Abbey.

It is noteworthy that a 'Ralph Strode' was Common Serjeant of the City of London. There is every reason for identifying him with Chaucer's ' philosophical Strode.' They were evidently neighbours, for Chaucer lived over the gate at Aldgate, while Strode was living over the gate at Aldersgate. Ralph Strode, the Common Serjeant of the City, died in 1387, and his will was proved in the Archdeaconry Court of London ; but, though duly indexed in the archives of the Archdeaconry now at Somerset House, the document itself is missing. He was involved in the municipal politics that distracted London, in the struggles between the partisans of the two great Londoners, Brember and Northampton, the latter the staunch supporter of Wycliffe. The fortunes of Northampton were linked with the fate of Thomas of Usk, the author of the ' Testament of Love.' Usk was executed early in 1388 ; in the same year Strode's friend and supporter, the former Lord Mayor Brember, paid the same penalty. Strode had died the previous year. But so far as the identity of Strode with the author of 'Pearl' is concerned, all is mere conjecture ; no definite piece of evidence tending to confirm it is adducible. The question still remains unanswered,

' Who and what he was — The transitory Being that beheld This Vision ; when and where and how he lived.'

Bibliography. — The present edition of ' Pearl ' is based on my edition published by Nutt in 1891, but both text and translation have been minutely revised as the result of long and continuous study. My attempt in 1891 adequately to interpret the poem and to gain recognition for its intrinsic merit apart from its philological importance succeeded beyond my expectation, and since then much literature, many renderings into modern English, and a number of investigations have testified to the increased interest taken in ' Pearl.' But the credit of having first printed the poem belongs to Dr. Richard Morris, who, in 1864, printed it in the first issue of the Early English Text Society, the 'Alliterative Poems.' The volume was revised and reprinted in 1869, etc.

In the Academy, Vol. XXXIX. and XL., after the publication of my edition, a discussion on a number of difficult problems ensued between Dr. Morris and myself, which helped to elaborate and establish certain views of mine on contestable points. In 1897 I prepared a revised edition of the text, which was privately printed. In 1918 a revision of the English translation was issued, imprinted and published by George W. Jones, at the Sign of the Dolphin, Gough Square, Fleet Street, London, sold for and on behalf of the British Red Cross.

In 1906 Dr. C. G. Osgood published an edition of the poem in the Belles Lettres Series. As will be seen from my notes to the present edition. Dr. Osgood's contribution to the textual interpretation of the poem cannot be considered satisfactory. Indeed, to the textual study of the poem very

little has been contributed in recent years, though many problems have been hitherto unelucidated.

As regards translations, — my own in 1891, being of the nature of a commentary, was rhymeless though metrical. In 1906 Dr. Weir Mitchell produced a charming rendering, on the basis of my own, of about the first half of the poem (New York, 1906). In the same year appeared Mr. Coulton's rendering into modern English in the metre of the original. The very attempt to reproduce the highly elaborate rhyming system of the Middle English must, in my opinion, unless carried through by a gifted poet, prove detrimental to the simple grace of the original ; rhyme and meaning become almost necessarily crude and forced. Mr. Coulton's version exemplified these and other dangers. In 1907 Dr. Osgood published a prose translation of the poem (Princeton). In 1908 (New York) appeared Miss Jewett's rendering in the original metre; in 1912 (London) Miss Jessie L. Weston's in ' Romance, Vision and Satire ' (in a modified form of the original metre) ; in 1916 (Boston) a prose translation by W. A. Neilson and K. G. T. Webster, in ' Chief British Poets. There have also been other renderings of the whole poem or parts of it ; and, as evidence of the widespread enthusiasm for ' Pearl,' I may mention that I have received MS. versions of portions of the poem not only in various European languages, but also in languages of India. In 1916 appeared a German translation of the poem by Otto Decker (Schwerin).

As regards phonological studies, W. Pick's 'Zum mittelenglischen gedicht von der Perle,' Kiel, 1885, as well as F. Knigge's 'Die sprache des dichters von Sir Gawain,' Marburg, 1885, often mentioned in connection with the poem, are now in my opinion quite obsolete, and should be used with the utmost caution.

In dealing with the metre of the poem, I have referred to the only important contribution on the subject, namely, Dr. C. S. Northup's 'Study of the Metrical Structure of Pearl,' Pub. Mod. Lang. Ass. America, Vol. XII.

Professor W. H. Schofield's papers on 'The Nature and Fabric of The Pearl,' ibid. Vol. XIX., ' Symbolism, Allegory, and Autobiography in The Pearl,' ibid. Vol. XXIV., Professor Carleton Brown's 'Author of The Pearl Considered in the Light of his Theological Opinions,' ibid. Vol. XIX., Dr. Garrett's ' The Pearl : an Interpretation,' University of Washington Publications, IV., No. i, Seattle, 1918, and other studies on interpretation and authorship, are referred to in the course of the present Introduction.

All recent histories of English literature recognise the importance of the poet of ' Pearl ' and ' Gawain,' and treat of these and the other two alliterative poems. The first historian of English literature, however, to give them adequate consideration was the gifted and scholarly Bernhard Ten Brink, who in the first volume of his ' History of English Literature,' 1877 (translated from the German by Horace M. Kennedy, 1883) dealt in a masterly way with these and other poems of the alliterative revival.

In the ' Manual of the Writings in Middle English,' by Professor J. E. Wells, 1916, with Supplement, 1919, will be found a fairly exhaustive bibliography. To this should be added the Bibliography in the Cambridge History of English Literature, Vol. I., pertaining to ch. xv. on 'Pearl,' etc., written by me, and my article on ' Pearl' in the Encyclopedia Britannica, nth edition. Vol. XXI., with the bibliography attached.

As regards ' Olympia,' the chief bibliographical data will be found in my Introduction to the poem in this volume.

Pearl: A Modern Rendering

Sir Israel Gollancz's unrhymed modern-English verse rendering, stanza for stanza with the Middle English original. Stanza numbers (I–CI) are supplied for reference; they follow the poem's own sequence of 101 stanzas in twenty sections of five (section fifteen has six), verified against the numerals legible in the scanned edition.

I.

PEARL all-pleasing, prince's treasure,
too chastely set in gold so pure!
From out the Orient, I aver,
ne'er proved I pearl its precious peer.
So round, so royal wherever ranged,
so sweetly small, so wondrous smooth ;
where'er I judged of joyous gems,
I placed my Pearl apart, supreme.
I lost it — in a garden— alas !
Through grass to ground 'twas gone from me.
I pine, by Severing Love despoil'd
of Pearl mine own, without a spot.

II.

There, in that spot, since hence it sped,
oft have I watch'd, wanting that gem
that once was wont to vanquish woe,
and raise my hap and all my weal.
It doth but pierce my heart with pangs,
my breast in bale but boil and burn ;
yet ne'er me seem'd so sweet a song
as that still hour let steal to me.
Yea, many a thought to me flow'd there,
musing its charm so clad in clay.
O earth ! thou marrest a merry theme,-
Pearl mine own, without a spot.

III.

From spot where such rich treasure wastes
fragrant spice must needs spring forth ;
blossoms white and blue and red
shine there full sheer against the sun.
Flower and fruit shall know no flaw
where it down drave to earth's dark mould ;
for from dead grain each blade must grow,
no wheat were else brought ever home.
Each good from good is aye begun ;
so seemly a seed can never fail ;
ne'er fragrant spice shall cease to spring
from that precious Pearl without a spot.

IV.

Unto the spot I picture forth
I enter'd into that garden green ;
'twas August, at a festal tide,
when corn is cut with keen-edg'd hook.
The mound my Pearl had roll'd adown
with herbs was shadow'd, beauteous, bright,-
gillyvors, ginger, and gromwell-seed,
and peonies powder'd all about.
But if the sight was sweet to see,
fair, too, the fragrance floating thence,
where dwelleth that glory, I wot full well,
my precious Pearl without a spot.

V.

Before that spot my hands I clasp'd,
for care full cold that seized on me ;
a senseless moan dinned in my heart,
though Reason bade me be at peace.
I plain'd my Pearl, imprison'd there,
with wayward words that fiercely fought ;
though Christ Himself me comfort show'd,
my wretched will worked aye in woe.
I fell upon that flowery plat ;
such fragrance flash'd into my brain,
I slid into a slumber-swoon
o'er that precious Pearl without a spot.

VI.

THENCE, from that spot, my spirit sprang ;
my body lay in trance on mound ;
my soul, by grace of God, had fared
adventuring, where marvels be.
I knew not where that region was ;
I was cast, I knew, where cliffs rose sheer.
Towards a forest I set my face,
where rocks so rich were to descry,
that none can trow how rich the light,
the gleaming glory glinting thence,
for ne'er a web that mortals wove
was half so wondrously bewrought.

VII.

Wondrously the hill-sides shone
with crystal cliffs that were so clear ;
and all about were holt-woods bright,
with boles as blue as hue of Inde ;
and close-set leaves on every branch
as burnish'd silver sway'd and swung ;
when glided 'gainst them glinting gleams,
splendent they shone with shimmering sheen ;
and the gravel I ground upon that strand
were precious pearls of Orient ;
the sunbeams were but dim and dark,
if set beside that wondrous glow !

VIII.

'Mid the magic of those wondrous hills
my spirit soon forgot all grief;
flavours of fruit so fresh were there,
as food full well they gave me strength ;
birds in the wood together flew,
of flaming hues, both small and great ;
nor citole-string nor citherner
could e'er re-tell their goodly glee ;
for when those birds did beat their wings,
they sang with such a sweet accord,
no rapture could so stir a man
as to hear and see that wonderment.

IX.

All was so dight in wondrous wise,
no tongue of man hath power to tell
the beauty of that forest-land,
where fortune led me on and on.
Still forth I pressed in blissful mood ;
no hill, though high, might hinder me.
Deeper in wood, more fair arose
plains and plants and spice and fruits,
hedgerows and borders, and river-meads ;
as fine gold-thread were their steep banks.
A water I reach'd that cleft the strand,-
Lord, how wondrous was the sight!

X.

The marvels of that wondrous flood !
Beauteous its banks with beryl bright ;
with music sweet its waters swept ;
with whispering voice it wander'd on.
And in the depths shone glittering stones ;
as glint through glass they glimmer'd and glow'd;
as streaming stars in the welkin shine
on a winter night, when dalesmen sleep.
Each pebble set there in that pool
was an emerald, sapphire, or goodly gem,
that all the water with light did gleam,-
the glamour was so wondrous rare !

XI.

THE wondrous glamour of down and dale,
of wood and water and noble plain,
stirr'd in me bliss, my bale allay'd,
scatter'd sorrow, pain destroy'd.
Along a stream I wended in joy,—
slowly it flow'd,— my mind was full ;
the farther I follow'd those watery vales,
the mightier joy constrain'd my heart.
Fortune fareth where she listeth,
sends she solace, or sends she care ;
the wight on whom her will she worketh
hath ever chance of more and more.

XII.

More was of wealth there, of this kind,
than I could tell, were leisure mine,
for earthly heart might not attain
unto the tenth of that glad Joy.
Certes, methought that Paradise
lay there beyond, o'er those broad banks.
The stream was some device, I trow'd,
Sir Mirth had made between great wells ;
beyond the brook, by hill or dale,
the castle-bounds, I trow'd, were mark'd;
but the water was deep, I durst not wade,
and ever long'd I, more and more.

XIII.

More and more, and yet still more,
I long'd to see beyond the brook ;
for if 'twas fair where I then pass'd,
far fairer was the farther land.
About me stumbled I and stared ;
to find a ford full hard I sought ;
but perils more, iwis, there were,
the further I stalk'd along the bank ;
and ever methought I could not flinch,
afeard, where wealth so winsome was ;
when new delights at hand were nigh,
that moved my mind, e'en more and more.

XIV.

More marvels then did daunt my soul ;
I saw beyond that merry mere
a crystal cliff that shone full bright,
many a noble ray stood forth ;
at the foot thereof there sat a child,-
so debonair, a maid of grace ;
glistening white was her rich robe ;
I knew her well, I had seen her ere.
As gleaming gold, refin'd and pure,
so shone that glory 'neath the cliff ;
long toward her there I look'd,-
the longer, I knew her more and more.

XV.

The more I scann'd her face so fair,
her beauteous form when I had found,
such gladdening glory came to me
as seldom had been wont to come.
Longing me seized to call her name,
but wonder dealt my heart a blow ;
I saw her in so strange a place,
well might the shock mine heart appal.
Then lifted she her visage fair,
as ivory pure her face was white ;
it thrill'd mine heart, struck all astray,
and ever the longer, more and more,

XVI.

MORE than me pleased was now my dread ;
I stood full still, I dared not speak ;
with open eyes and fast-closed mouth,
I stood as gentle as hawk in hall.
A ghostly vision I trow'd it was ;
I dreaded what might there betide,
lest what I saw should me escape
ere I it held within my reach ;
when, lo ! > that spotless child of grace,
so smooth, so small, so sweetly slight,
arose in all her royal array,-
a precious piece, bedight with pearls.

XVII.

Choicest pearls, of sovereign price,
favour'd mortal there might see,
when all as fresh as a fleur-de-lys
adown that bank she came anon.
Gleaming white was her surcoat fine,
open at sides, and nobly edged
with pearls, the merriest, I trow,
that e'er I saw yet with mine eyes ;
ample the sleeves, I ween and wot,
with double braid of pearl bedeck'd ;
her beauteous kirtle, matching well,
with precious pearls was all bedight.

XVIII.

A crown that maiden wore, bedight
with margarites, and no stone else ;
high pinnacled with clear white pearls,
with figured flowers wrought thereon.
No other tire was on her head ;
her hair, too, hung about her neck ;
her look was grave, as duke's or earl's ;
whiter than whale-bone was her hue.
Bright as clear gold her tresses shone,
loose on her shoulders they softly lay ;
her glowing beauty had no lack
of precious pearls on broid'ry dight.

XIX.

The hems and wristbands were bedight,
at the hands, at sides, at openings,
with white pearl, and none other gem ;
and burnish'd white her vesture was ;
but a wondrous pearl, without a flaw,
amid her breast was firmly set ;
soul of man would surely fail
ere mortal mind might mete its worth.
No tongue might e'er avail, I trow,
that sight to tell in fitting word,
so fair was it, and clear, and pure,
that precious pearl, where it was dight.

XX.

Bedight with pearls, that precious thing
came down the shore beyond the stream ;
from here to Greece no gladder man
than I, when she was at the brink.
She was me nearer than aunt or niece,
wherefore my joy was much the more.
Proffer'd me speech that creature rare,
inclining low in womanly wise ;
her crown of richest worth she doff'd,
and hail'd me with obeisance blithe.
Well was me that e'er I was born,
to answer that Sweet, in pearls bedight

XXI.

O PEARL ! " quoth I, "bedight in pearle,
art thou my Pearl, that I have plain'd,
bewept by me, so lone, a-night ?
Much longing have I borne for thee,
since into grass thou hence didst glide ;
pensive, broken, forpined am I ;
but thou hast reach'd a life of joy,
in the strifeless home of Paradise.
What fate hath hither brought my jewel,
and me in dolorous plight hath cast i
Since we were sunder'd and set apart,
a joyless jeweller I have been."

XXII.

That jewel there, so fair begemm'd,
up-rais'd her face, her eyes so grey,
put on her crown of Orient pearl,
and thus full gravely then she spake :
" Sir, thou hast misread thy tale,
to say thy Pearl is all perdu,
that is in chest so comely and strong
as in this garden of grace and glee ;
for ever to dwell and play herein,
where miss and mourning come never nigh ;
this were thy treasure-hold, i' faith,
wert thou a gentle jeweller.

XXIII.

" But, gentle sir, if thou must lose
thy joy for a gem that to thee was dear,
thou'rt set, methinks, on mad intent,
and carest for too brief a cause :
what thou didst lose was but a rose,
that flower'd and fail'd, as Nature bade ;
through the casket's grace, enclosing it,
it now is proved a pearl of price.
And thou hast call'd thy fate a thief,
that ought from nought hath made for the-e;
thou blamest the balm of all thine ill,
thou art a graceless jeweller."

XXIV.

A jewel to me was then this guest,
and jewels were her gentle words,
" Indeed," quoth I, " blest dearest mine,
my dire distress away thou draw'st.
I make request to be excused ;
I trow'd my Pearl had pass'd from Day ;
but now 'tis found, I shall make mirth,
and dwell with it in radiant groves,
and praise my Lord and all His laws,
who hath me brought this bliss anigh.
Were I with thee beyond these waves,
I were a joyful jeweller ! "

XXV.

" Jeweller ! " said that purest gem,
" Why jest ye men ? So mad ye are !
Three words thou spakest at one time ;
thoughtless, forsooth, were all the three ;
thou knowest not what one doth mean ;
surely thy words outrun thy wit.
Thou sayest, thou deemest me in this dale,
because thou seest me with thine eyes ;
again, thou sayest, that in this land
thyself wilt dwell with me e'en here ;
thirdly,— this stream would' st freely pass;
this may no joyful jeweller.

XXVI.

" T HOLD that jeweller little to praise
that trusteth what with eye he seeth,
and much to blame and graceless he
that thinketh our Lord would speak a lie,
who leally promised to raise thy life,
though fortune gave thy flesh to death.
Full widdishins thou read'st His words,
that trowest nought but what thou seest ;
and 'tis an overweening thing,
that ill beseems each righteous man,
to trow no tale be trustworthy,
save his mere reason deem it so.

XXVII.

" Deem now thyself, if thou hast dealt
such words as man to God should lift.
Thou sayest thou wilt dwell in this burgh ;
'twere meet, methinks, first to ask leave ;
and yet thou mightest miss the boon.
Thou wishest, too, to cross this stream ;
first must thou reach another goal,—
colder thy corse must cling in clay ;
'twas forfeit in grove of Paradise ;
our forefather ill guarded it ;
through dreary death each man must pass,
ere God deem right he cross this flood."

XXVIII.

" Doomest thou me," quoth I, *■' my Sweet,
to dole again, I pine away.
Now have I found what I had lost,
must I forgo it, ere ever I end ?
Why must I it both meet and miss ?
My precious Pearl doth me great pain !
What serveth treasure but tears to make,
if one must lose it soon with woe ?
Now reck. I ne'er how low I droop,
how far men drive me from my land ;
when in my Pearl no part is mine,
what is my doom but endless moan ? "

XXIX.

" Thou deem'st of nought but doleful grief,"
said then that maid ; " why dost thou so ?
Through din of dole for losses small
many a man oft loseth more.
Rather shouldst thou cross thyself,
and praise aye God, in woe and weal ;
anger avails thee not a cress ;
who needs must bow, be not so bold ;
for though thou dance as any doe,
chafe and cry in fiercest ire, -
since, to or fro, no way thou mak'st,
thou must abide what He shall deem.

XXX.

" Doom thou the Lord ! Arraign Him still !
He will not swerve a foot from the way.
Thy mending 'mounteth not a mite,
though thou, for grief, be never blithe.
Stint from thy strife, and cease to chide,
and seek His grace full swift and sure ;
thy prayer may His pity touch,
and Mercy may show forth her craft.
His solace may assuage thy grief,
that all thy losses glance lightly off;
for, marr'd or made, mourning and mirth,
all lieth in Him, as He deem fit."

XXXI.

THEN deem'd I to that damosel :
" Let not my Lord be wroth with me,
if wildly I rave, rushing in speech,
my heart with mourning all was torn.
As welling water goeth from well,
I yield me to His mercy aye.
Rebuke me ne'er with cruel words,
my dear adored, e'en though I stray ;
but show me kindly comforting,
piteously thinking upon this,-
of care and me thou madest accord,
that wast of all my bliss the ground.

XXXII.

" My bliss, my bale, hast thou been both ;
but much the more my moan hath been ;
since thou wast banish'd from ev'ry path,
I wist not where my Pearl was gone.
Now I it see, now less'neth my loss ;
and when we parted, at one we were ;
God forbid we be now wroth !
We meet so seldom by stock or stone.
Though thou canst speak full courteously,
I am but dust, and manners lack ;
the mercy of Christ, and Mary, and John,
these are the ground of all my bliss.

XXXIII.

" In bliss I see thee blithely blent,
and I a man with mourning marr'd ;
thereof thou takest little heed,
though baleful harms befall me oft.
But now, before thy presence here,
I would beseech, without demur,
that thou wouldst tell, with gentle grace,
early and late what life thou lead'st.
For I am glad that thine estate
is all so changed to worth and weal ;
the high-way this of all my joy ;
it is the ground of all my bliss."

XXXIV.

' ' Now bliss betide thee, noble sir,' '
said she, so fair of form and face,
" and welcome here to bide and walk,
for dear to me is now thy speech.
Masterful mood and mighty pride,
I tell thee, are bitterly hated here ;
my Master loveth not to blame,
for meek are all that dwell Him nigh.
And when in His place appear thou must,
in humbleness be deep devout ;
my Lord the Lamb such cheer aye loveth ;
He is the ground of all my bliss.

XXXV.

" A blissful life thou say'st I lead,
and thou wouldst know the state thereof :
well know'st thou, when thy Pearl fared forth,
of tender age, full young, was I ;
but, through His Godhead, my Lord the Lamb
took me in marriage unto Himself;
crown'd me Queen, to revel in bliss,
in length of days that ne'er shall wane ;
and dower'd with all His heritage
His Bride is ; I am wholly His ;
His praise, His price. His peerless rank,
of ail my bliss are root and ground."

XXXVI.

" BLISSFUL," quoth I, " may this be so ?
Speak I amiss, be not displeased.
Art thou the Queen of heavens blue,
whom all this world must honour now ?
We believe in Mary, from whom sprang grace,
who bore a child from virgin flower,
and who can take from her the crown,
save she excel her in some worth ?
And for her peerlessness of charm
Phoenix of Araby we her call,
the bird immaculate of form,
like to that Queen of Courtesy."

XXXVII.

" Courteous Queen ! " said then that joy,
kneeling to earth, her face enveil'd,
" Matchless Mother, Merriest Maid,
Blest Beginner of every grace ! "
Then rose she up, and there she paused,
and spake toward me from that spot :-
" Sir ! folk find here the prize they seek,
but no usurpers bide herein.
That Empress in her empire hath
the heavens all and earth and hell ;
from heritage yet she driveth none,
for she is Queen of Courtesy.

XXXVIII.

" The Court of the Kingdom of Living God
hath in itself this property,-
each one that may arrive therein
is king or queen of all the realm,
and yet shall not deprive another ;
but each is glad of others' weal,
and would their crowns were worth live such,
were their enhancing possible.
But my Lady, from whom Jesu sprang.
She holdeth empire high o'er all ;
and this displeaseth none of our host,
for she is Queen of Courtesy.

XXXIX.

" By courtesy, as saith Saint Paul,
we all are members of Jesu Christ ;
as head and arm and leg and trunk,
trusty and true, their body serve,
so is each Christian soul a limb
that to the Lord of Might belongs.
Lo now, what hatred or ill-will
is fast or fix'd between thy limbs ?
Thy head hath neither spleen nor spite,
on arm or finger though thou bear ring.
So fare we all in love and joy,
by courtesy, to King and Queen."

XL.

" Courtesy," quoth I, " I grant,
and charity great dwell in your midst ;
but, pardon if my speech doth grieve,
methinketh now thy words full wrong ;
thou hast raised thyself in heaven top high,
to make thee queen, that wast so young.
What greater honour might he win,
who suffer'd bravely in this world,
and lived in life-long penance here,
with bodily bale to purchase bliss ?
What greater glory might he have
than king be crown'd by courtesy ?

XLI.

" THIS courtesy is all too free,
if it be sooth that thou hast said ;
thou livedst not two years in our land,
God thou couldst not please or pray,
and never knewest Pater nor Creed ;
yet on the first day made a Queen !
I may not trow, so speed me God,
that He would work so all amiss.
As countess, damosel, par ma fay,
'twere fair in heaven to hold estate,
or as a lady of lower degree :
but a Queen,-it is too great a goal."

XLII.

" No goal, no end, His goodness hath,"
then said to me that noble gem,
" for all is just where He doth lead ;
He can do nought but what is right.
As Matthew telleth in your mass,
in God Almighty's Gospel true,
a parable He made full well ;
to Heaven bright He likeneth it.
' My realm on high,' He saith, ' is like
to a lord that had a vineyard once ;
and, lo ! the time of year was come
when vintage was the season's goal.

XLIII.

" ' The season's goal his household knows ;
and up full early rose the lord
to hire more workmen for his vines ;
and to his purpose findeth some.
They enter in agreement then
for a penny a day, and forth they go ;
they strain and strive and do great toil,
they prune and bind and fasten firm.
About noon the lord the market sought,
and idle men found standing there.
' Why stand ye idle ? ' he said to them,
' Or know ye for this day no goal ? '

XLIV.

" ' ' Ere dawn of day we hither came ; '
so gave they answer, one and all ;
' we have stood here since rose the sun,
and no man biddeth us do aught.'
' Enter my vineyard ; do what ye can,'
said then the lord, and made it sure,-
' What wage is fair, by fall of night,
I will you pay, in thought and deed.'
They went unto his vines, and work'd ;
and thus all day the lord went forth,
and new men to his vineyard brought,
well-nigh till day had pass'd its goal.

XLV.

" ' Nigh goal of day, at evensong,
one hour before the sun should set,
strong men he saw stand idle there,
and said to them, with earnest voice :-
' Why stand ye idle the livelong day ? '
Nowhere, said they, was hire for them.
' Go to my vineyard, yeomen young,
and work and do as best ye can.'
Soon the world grew burnish'd brown ;
the sun was down, and it waxed late ;
to take their pay he summon'd them ;
the day was done, its goal was pass'd.

XLVI.

" THE day was done, the master knew,-
called to his reeve : ' Sir, pay the men ;
give them the wage that I them owe,
and further, that none may me reprove,
set them all in one long line,
and give a penny to each alike ;
begin at the last that standeth low,
and so until thou- reach the first.'
The first began then to complain,
and said that they had sorely toil'd :-
' These but an hour have strain'd their strength,
seemeth to us we should take more.

XLVII.

" ' ' More have we deserved, we think,
that here have borne the heat of day,
than these that have not work'd two hours,
and thou dost make them equal us.'
Then said the lord to one of them :-
' Friend, I would not do thee wrong ;
take what is thine own and go.
Hired I thee for a penny withal,
why beginnest thou now to chafe ?
Was not a penny thy covenant then ?
More than agreed one must not claim.
Why shouldest thou then ask for more ?

XLVIII.

" ' ' Moreover,- Is it my right to give,
to do with mine what so I please,
or is it thine eye is bent on ill,
since I am good, and none defraud ? '
' Thus shall I,' quoth Christ, ' ordain :
the last shall be the first to go,
and the first the last, be he ne'er so swift ;
for many are called, though few the elect.'
Thus do the poor their portion take,
though they come late, and low their place ;
though, little done, their toil is spent,
the mercy of God is much the more.

XLIX.

" More have I here of joy and bliss,
of ladyship great and bloom of life,
than all the men in the world might win,
ask'd they award by way of right.
Though, well-nigh now, I late began,
at even to the vineyard came,
first of my hire my Lord bethought ;
I was paid anon the payment full.
Others were there who had to wait,
who sweated long before, and toil'd ;
yet nothing got they of their hire,
nor will perchance for long years more."

L.

Then said I more, and boldly spake :-
" Thy tale me seemeth reasonless :
God's right is ready, raised eterne,
or Holy Writ is but a fable.
In Psalter is said a verse full clear,
putting, as point determin'd, this :-
' Each Thou requitest as his desert,
Thou High King, ever fore-ordained ! '
Now he who all day steadfast stood,-
if thou to payment come ere he,
then the less the work, the more the pay,
and ever the longer the less the more."

LI.

" 'TWIXT more and less in God's own realm,"
that Gentle said, " lies no debate ;
for there is each man paid alike,
whether little or much be his reward.
That gentle Chieftain is no niggard,
whether His dole be hard or soft ;
He poureth His gifts as water from weir,
or streams of the deep that never turn.
Large is his freedom who hath fear'd
'fore Him that rescueth in sin ;
no bliss shall be withheld from such ;
the grace of God is great enough.

LII.

" Yet now thou mootest, to checkmate me,
that I my penny have wrongly ta'en :
thou sayest that I, who came too late,
am not worth so great a wage.
Where knewest thou any man abide,
ever so holy in his prayer,
who ne'er, in some way, forfeited
the meed, some time, of heaven bright ?
And aye the ofter, the older they were,
left they the right, and wrought amiss ;
Mercy and Grace must pilot them ;
The grace of God is great enough.

LIII.

" But grace enough have innocents ;
as soon as they are born, by rule
in the water of baptism they descend ;
then are they to the vineyard brought.
Anon the day, with darkness fleck'd,
unto Death's might doth make them bow
who ne'er wrought wrong ere thence they went.
The gentle Lord His folk then payeth ;
they did His will, they were therein.
Why should He not allow their hire,
yea, pay them at the first day's close?
The grace of God is great enough.

LIV.

" Enough is known, how mankind great
first was wrought for perfect bliss ;
our fore-father it forfeited,
through an apple that he bit upon.
And for that morsel were we damn'd
to die in dolour, afar from joy,
and thence to fare to heat of hell,
there to abide, with respite none.
But soon came there the antidote ;
on rood so rough ran richest blood
and winsome water ; then, in that plight,
the grace of God wax'd great enough.

LV.

" Enough from out that well there flow'd,
blood and water, from wound so wide :
from bale of hell the blood us bought,
and ransom'd us from second death ;
the water is baptism, sooth to say,
that follow'd the glaive so grimly ground,
that washeth away the guilt so fell
that Adam drown'd us with in death.
Now is there nought in this round world
'twixt us and bliss but what He withdrew ;
all is restored in one fair hour.
The grace of God is great enough.

LVI.

" GRACE enough a man may have
that sinneth anew, if he repent ;
he must it crave with sorrow and sighs,
and bide the pain thereto is bound ;
but Reason, straying not from right,
saveth the innocent evermore ;
for 'tis a doom that God ne'er gave,
that ever the guiltless should be shamed.
The guilty may contrition find,
and be by Mercy led to Grace ;
but into guile who glided ne'er,
in innocence, is saved by right.

LVII.

" Right well I know of this same thing,
two kinds to save is good and just,-
the righteous man His face shall see,
the harmless one shall come Him nigh.
Thus saith the Psalter in a verse,-
' Lord, who shall climb Thy lofty hill,
or rest within Thy holy place ? '
Himself to answer He is not slow,-
• Whose hands in malice ne'er did hurt,
he that is clean and pure of heart,
there shall his step stand ever firm.'
The innocent is saved by right.

LVIII.

" Verily, eke the righteous man
approach shall he that noble tower,-
who taketh not his life in vain,
his neighbour cheateth not with guile.
Of such saw Solomon clearly once
how well our Wisdom welcomed him ;
He guided him by ways full straight,
shew'd him awhile the realm of God,
as who should say, ' Lo, yon fair place !
thou may'st it win, if thou be brave.'
But, without peril, be thou sure,
the innocent is saved by right.

LIX.

" Anent the righteous saith another,
David in Psalter. Hast it seen ?-
' Thy servant. Lord, draw never to doom ;
none living is justified 'fore Thee.'
So when thou comest to the Court,
where all our causes shall be cried,
renounce thy right, thou mayest come in,
by these same words that I have cuU'd.
But He that bloodily died on rood,
whose hands were pierced so grievously,
grant thee to pass, when tried thou art,
by innocence and not by right !

LX.

" Who knoweth to read the Book aright,
let him look in, and learn therefrom
how Jesus walk'd once on a time,
and folk their bairns press'd near to Him ;
to touch their children they Him besought,
for hap and health that from Him came.
His disciples sternly bade them cease ;
and at their words full many stay'd.
Then Jesus sweetly said to them :-
' Not so ; let children draw to Me ;
for such IS heaven's realm prepared.'
The innocent is aye saved by right.

LXI.

JESUS call'd to Him His meek,
and said, no man might win His realm
save he came thither as a child ;
else might he never therein come ;
harmless, undefiled, and true,
with ne'er stain nor spot of sapping sin,
when such come knocking on that place,
quickly for them the bolt is drawn.
There is the bliss that cannot fade,
the jeweller sought 'mong precious gems,
and sold his all, both linen and wool,
to purchase him a spotless pearl.

LXII.

" 'This spotless pearl, so dearly bought,
the jeweller gave his all therefor,
is like the realm of Heaven's sphere ; '
so said the Father of field and flood ;
for it is flawless, bright, and pure,
endlessly round, of lustre blithe,
and common to all that righteous were.
Lo, its setting amid my breast !
My Lord the Lamb, who shed His blood,
He set it there in token of peace.
I rede thee forsake the world so wild,
and get for thee thy spotless pearl."

LXIII.

" O spotless Pearl, in pearls so pure,
that bearest," quoth I, " the pearl of price,
who form'd for thee thy figure fair ?
He was full wise that wrought thy robe ;
thy beauty never from Nature came ;
Pygmalion painted ne'er thy face ;
nor Aristotle, with all his lore,
told of the qualities of these gifts ;
thy colour passeth the fleur-de-lis ;
thy angel-bearing so all debonair !
Tell me. Brightest, what is the peace
that beareth as token this spotless pearl ? '

LXIV.

" My spotless Lamb, Who can better all,"
quoth she, " my Destiny so dear,
chose me His bride, though all unfit
the Spousal might a while well seem.
When I went forth from your wet world,
He call'd me to His Goodliness :-
' Come hither to Me, My truelove sweet,
for stain or spot is none in thee.'
He gave me strength and beauty too ;
in His blood on the Throne He wash'd my weeds ;
and, crown'd clean in maidenhood,
with spotless pearls He me beset."

LXV.

" Why, spotless Bride, that shinest bright,
with regal glories rich and rare,
what, forsooth, may be the Lamb,
that thee as wife to Him would wed ?
O'er all the rest hast thou climb'd high,
with Him to lead so queenly a life.
Many a fair, 'neath maiden crown,
for Christ in mickle strife hath lived ;
those dear ones thou hast all out-driven,
and from that marriage all hast held,
all save thyself, so strong and stiff,
matchless maid, immaculate ! "

LXVI.

IMMACULATE," said that merry queen,
" unblemish'd I am, without a stain ;
and this may I with grace avow ;
but ' matchless queen ' — that said I ne'er.
We all in bliss are Brides of the Lamb,
a hundred and forty-four thousand in all,
as in the Apocalypse it is clear ;
Saint John beheld them in a throng.
On the Hill of Zion, that beauteous spot,
the Apostle beheld them, in dream divine,
array'd for the Bridal on that hill-top,-
the City New of Jerusalem.

LXVII.

" Of Jerusalem is now my speech :
If thou wouldst know what kind is He,
my Lamb, my Lord, my dearest Jewel,
my Joy, my Bliss, my noble Love,—
the prophet Isaiah spake of Him,
in pity of His gentleness,-
' the Glorious Guiltless whom they killed
with ne'er a cause of evil deed.
As a sheep to the slaughter He was led ;
as lamb the shearer taketh a-field.
He closed His mouth 'gainst questioning,
when Jews Him judg'd in Jerusalem.'

LXVIII.

" In Jerusalem was my Truelove slain
and rent on rood by boist'rous churls ;
full ready all our bales to bear,
He took on Him our cares so cold.
With buffets was His face all flay'd,
that was so fair to look upon ;
for sin He set Himself at nought,
that ne'er had sin to call His own.
For us He let Him beat and bend
and bind upon a rugged rood ;
as meek as lamb, that made no plaint,
for us He died in Jerusalem.

LXIX.

" In Jerusalem, Jordan, and Galilee,
where baptized folk the good Saint John,
his words accorded with Isaiah's.
When Jesus was come a-nigh to him,
he spake of Him this prophecy :-
' Behold God's Lamb, as true as stone,
who doth away the endless sins
that all this world hath ever wrought.
Yet He Himself wrought never one,
though on Himself all sins He laid.
His generation who can tell,
that died for us in Jerusalem ? '

LXX.

" In Jerusalem thus my Truelove sweet
twice was taken there as lamb,
by record true of prophets twain,
so meek His mood and all His mien.
The third time well befits thereto,
as written in Apocalypse.
Amidst the Throne, where sat the Saints,
the Apostle John Him clearly saw,
opening the Book with pages square,
with seven seals set forth thereon ;
and at that sight the doughty quaked,
in Hell, in Earth, and Jerusalem.

LXXI.

" ' THIS Lamb of Jerusalem had no speck
of other hue save winsome white,
that ne'er a stain or spot might touch,
so white the wool, so rich and rare ;
wherefore each soul that hath no taint
is to that Lamb a wife ador'd ;
and though each day a many Hebring,
nor strife nor stress among us comes ;
but each one singly we would were five,—
the more the merrier, so bless me God !
Our love can thrive in company great ;
our honour more and never less.

LXXII.

" Less of bliss may none us bring,
this pearl who bear upon our breasts,
for ne'er a thought of sin know they
the crown who bear of spotless pearls.
And though our corses cling in clay,
and ye for ruth cry ceaselessly,
we knowledge have full well of this,-
from one death cometh all our hope.
Us gladd'neth the Lamb ; our care is cast ;
He maketh mirth at every meal ;
of each the bliss is bravest and best,
and no one's honour is yet the less.

LXXIII.

" But lest thou deem my tale less true,
in Apocalypse is writ a verse :—
' I saw,' saith John, ' where stood the Lamb,
on the Mount of Zion, thriven and strong,
and with Him maidens a hundred thousand,
and four and forty thousand more ;
on all their foreheads writ I found
the Lamb's own name. His Father's eke.
A voice from heaven heard I then,
like many floods' roar, a-rushing on ;
as thunder hurtles in lowring skies ;
that sound, I trow, was none the less.

LXXIV.

" ' Nevertheless, though sharp the shout,
though loud the voice that echoed there,
a note full new I heard them raise ;
to list thereto was blissful joy.
As harpers harp upon their harps,
that new song sang they tunefuUy,-
a noble theme in clearest notes ;
sweetly in chorus they caught the strain.
And e'en before the Throne of God,
and the four beasts that bow to Him,
and the Elders all, so grave of mien,
their song they sang there never the less.

LXXV.

" ' Nevertheless was none so skill'd,
for all the crafts that e'er he knew,
that of that song might sing a note,
save all the host that follow the Lamb.
They are redeem'd, remov'd from earth,
as first-fruits wholly due to God,
and to that gentle Lamb enjoin'd,
as like to Him in hue and look ;
for never a lie nor tale untrue
had touch'd their tongues, for any pain.
To spotless Lord the spotless host
shall nearest be, and never less.' "

LXXVI.

" And none the less my thanks have thou,"
quoth I, " my Pearl, though yet I ask ;
I should not try thy noble mind,
who chosen to Christ's chamber art.
I am but earth and dust a-while,
and thou so rich a royal rose,
and bidest by this blissful bank,
where life's delight may ne'er be lost.
Now, Lady, — simple wast thou once, —
I fain would ask thee but one thing ;
and though I be wild as man of the woods,
let, ne'ertheless, my prayer avail !

LXXVII.

" T NONE the less beseech thee fair,
if thou canst see it may be done,
as thou art glorious, free from fault,
my rueful prayer deny not thou.
-Have ye no homes in castle-walls ?
No manor where ye may meet and bide ?
Thou namest Jerusalem, rich and royal,
where David dear was dight on throne ;
but by these holts it cannot be ;
'tis in Judsea, that noble place ;
as ye are spotless 'neath the moon,
all spotless so should be your homes.

LXXVIII.

" This spotless band thou speakest of,
this throng of thousands, such a host ;
a city vast, so many ye are,
without a doubt, ye needs must have.
So comely a pack of joyous jewels
'twere perilous to lodge without ;
but, where I tarry by these banks,
I see no dwelling anywhere.
I trow ye but linger here and walk,
to look on the glory of this fair stream ;
if elsewhere thou hast dwellings firm,
now lead me to that merry spot."

LXXIX.

" The spot thou meanest, in Jewry land,"
that wonder rare then said to me,
" the city it is the Lamb did seek,
to suffer there sore, for sake of man,-
the Old Jerusalem, to wit,
for there the old guilt was assoil'd ;
but the New, come down by God's own word,-
the Apostle's theme in Apocalypse,-
'tis there the Lamb, with no black stain,
thither- hath borne His beauteous throng ;
and as His flock is without fold,
moatless His mansion in that spot.

LXXX.

" Of these twain spots to speak aright,
and yet hight both Jerusalem,-
which, know thou, meaneth nothing else
but City of God, or Sight of Peace,—
in the one, our peace one time was made ;
the Lamb chose there to suffer pain ;
in the other is nought but peace to glean,
that aye shall last unceasingly.
This is the bourne whereto we press,
soon as our flesh is laid to waste ;
there glory and bliss shall e'er increase
unto the host without a spot."

LXXXI.

" Spotless maid, so meek and mild,"
then said I to that flower full fair,
" bring me to that blest abode,
and let me see thy blissful bower."
That glory said : " God this forbiddeth ;
within His tower thou may'st not come ;
but from the Lamb I welcome thee
to a sight thereof, by His great grace.
That cloister clean may'st see without ;
within — thy vigour availeth not
to enter in its street one foot,
save thou wert clean in spotlessness.

LXXXII.

" OHALL I to thee this spot levea),
O bend thou toward this river's head,—
I, opposite, upon this bank,
shall follow, till thou come to a hill."
No longer would I tarry then,
but stole 'neath boughs, 'neath lovely leaves,
till, from a hill, as on I went,
I espied and gazed upon the Burgh.
Deep set from me, beyond the brook,
with rays it shone, than sun more bright.
In Apocalypse is found its form,
as pictureth the Apostle John.

LXXXIII.

As John the Apostle saw it then,
saw I that City of noble fame,—
Jerusalem, new and royally dight,
as it was come from Heaven adown.
The Burgh was all of burning gold,
burnish'd bright as gleaming glass,
with glorious gems beneath it set,
with twelve steps rising from the base,
foundations twelve, with tenons rich,
and every slab a special stone ;
as in Apocalypse this same Burgh
John the Apostle pictureth well.

LXXXIV.

As John these stones named in his book,
I knew the names, as he doth tell.
Jasper hight the first gem there,
that on the first base I discern'd ;
on lowest course it glisten'd green ;
sapphire held the second step ;
the chalcedony then, without a spot
on tier the third shone pale and pure ;
the emerald fourth, so green of scale ;
the fifth stone was the sardonyx ;
the sardius sixth ; in Apocalypse
John the Apostle discern'd it then.

LXXXV.

To these join'd John the chrysolite,
foundation-stone the seventh there;
the eighth the beryl, white and clear ;
the tA^in-hued topaz ninth was set ;
the chrysoprase came next, the tenth ;
the gentle jacinth then, eleventh ;
the twelfth, the surest in every plight,
the purple amethyst, blent with blue.
The wall rose sheer above the steps,
of jasper as glass that gleaming shone ;
I knew it, as he pictured it
in Apocalypse, the Apostle John.

LXXXVI.

As John there pictured, saw I too,—
broad and steep were these twelve steps ;
the City stood above full square,
in length as great as breadth and height ;
the streets of gold, as clear as glass ;
the wall of jasper ; as glair it gleam'd.
The mansions were adorn'd within
with every kind of gem e'er found.
And held each side of that domain
twelve thousand furlongs, ere ended then,
in height, in breadth, in length, its course ;
for measured saw it the Apostle John.

LXXXVII.

AS writeth John, yet saw I more,—
three gates had each side of that place,
yea, twelve in compass I espied,
the portals deck'd with plates full rich ;
each gate was of one margery pearl,—
a perfect pearl that fadeth ne'er.
Each bore thereon a name inscribed
of Israel's children, in order of time,
that is to say, as their fortunes of birth ;
ever the elder first was writ.
Such light there gleam'd in all the streets,
they needed neither sun nor moon.

LXXXVIII.

Of sun or moon had they no need ;
their lamp-light was the very God ;
the Lamb their lantern that never fail'd ;
through Him the City brightly gleam'd.
Through wall and mansion pierced my gaze ;
all was so clear, nought hinder'd sight.
The High Throne might ye there behold,
engirt with all its fair array,
as John the Apostle drew in words ;
and thereon sat High God Himself.
A river from the Throne ran out ;
'twas brighter than both sun and moon.

LXXXIX.

Nor sun nor moon so sweetly shone
as that rich flood from out that floor ;
through every street it swiftly surged,
free from filth and mud and mire.
Church therein was none to see,
chapel nor temple that ever was set ;
the Almighty was their minster meet,
the Lamb their sacrifice, there to atone.
The portals never yet were barr'd,
but evermore open at ev'ry lane ;
none entereth there to take abode,
that beareth spot beneath the moon.

XC.

The moon no might may there acquire ;
too spotty is she, too grim her form ;
and night is never in that place.
Why should the moon climb there her course,
as 'twere with that rich light to vie,
that shineth upon the river's bank ?
The planets' plight is all too poor ;
the very sun is far too dim.
About that stream are trees full bright,
that bear full soon twelve fruits of life ;
twelve times each year they bravely bear,
their fruit renewing every moon.

XCI.

Beneath the moon no heart of flesh
so great a marvel might sustain,
as I, a-gazing on that Burgh,
so wondrous was the form thereof.
I stood as still as daz'd quail,
in wonder of that gladsome sight ;
nor rest nor travail felt I then,
so ravish'd by that radiance rare.
For I, with knowledge sure, dare say,
had mortal bodily borne that bliss,
though all our clerks had him in cure,
his life were lost beneath the moon.

XCII.

AS when the mighty moon doth rise,
ere thence the gleam of day may set,
so, suddenly, in wondrous way,
I was 'ware of a procession there.
This noble city of rich renown
was suddenly, without summons, full
of maidens, all in self-same garb
as was my Blissful beneath her crown ;
and crown'd were they all alike,
array'd in pearls and raiment white ;
on each one's breast was fasten'd firm,
with great delight, the blissful pearl.

XCIII.

With great delight they fared together
on golden streets that gleam'd as glass ;
hundreds of thousands I wot there were,
as of one Order was their guise;
'twere hard to choose the gladdest mien.
Before them proudly pass'd the Lamb,
with seven horns of clear red gold ;
His robe most like to prais'd pearls.
Toward the Throne they took their track ;
though they were many, none did press;
but mild as modest maids at mass,
so drew they on, with great delight.

XCIV.

Delight that there His coming brought,
too much it were to tell thereof;
those Elders all, when He approach'd,
prostrate they fell before His feet ;
legions of angels, call'd together,
scatter'd there incense of sweetest smell ;
then glory and glee pour'd forth anew ;
all sang to laud that gladsome Jewel.
Through earth to hell the strain might strike,
that the Virtues of Heaven attune in joy ;
to laud the Lamb, His host amid,
in sooth possess'd me great delight.

XCV.

Delight, much marvel, held my mind
aright to picture forth the Lamb ;
best was He, blithest, and most to prize,
that e'er I heard in speech set forth.
So wondrous white was His array,
simple His looks, Himself so calm ;
but a wound full wide and wet was seen,
against His heart, through sunder'd skin ;
from His white side His blood stream'd out.
Alas ! thought I, who did that hurt ?
Any breast should all have burnt in bale,
ere it thereto had had delight.

XCVI.

But none would doubt the Lamb's delight ;
though He were hurt and wounded sore,
none could it in His semblance see.
His glance so glorious was and glad.
I look'd among His radiant host,
how they with life were fiU'd and fraught ;
then saw I there my little queen,
I thought was nigh me in the glen.
Lord, much of mirth was it she made !
Among her peers she was so fair.
That sight there made me think to cross,
for love-longing and great delight.

XCVII.

DELIGHT so drove me, eye and ear ;
melted to madness my mortal mind ;
when I saw my Precious, I would be there,
beyond the stream though she were held.
Nothing, methought, might hinder me
from fetching birr and taking-off ;
and nought should keep me from the start,
though I there perish'd swimming the rest.
But I was shaken from that thought ;
as I wildly will'd to start a-stream,
I was recall'd from out that mood ;
it was not pleasing to my Prince.

XCVIII.

It pleased Him not I flung me thus,
so madly, o'er those wondrous meres ;
though on I rush'd, full rash and rude,
yet quickly was my running stay'd ;
for as I sped me to the brink,
the strain me startled from my dream.
Then woke I in that garden green ;
my head upon that mound was laid,
e'en where my Pearl had strayed below.
I roused me, and fell in great dismay,
and, sighing, to myself I said,
" Now, all be as that Prince may please ! "

XCIX.

Me pleased it ill to be out cast
so suddenly from that fair realm,
from all those sights so blithe and brave.
Sore longing struck me, and I swoon'd,
and ruefully then I cried aloud :-
" O Pearl," quoth I, " of rich renown,
how dear to me was all that thou
in this true vision didst declare !
And if the tale be verily true,
that thou thus farest, in garland gay,
so well is me in this dungeon dire,
that thou art pleasing to that Prince ! "

C.

That Prince to please had I still bow'd,
nor yearn'd for more than was me given,
and held me there with true intent,
as the Pearl me pray'd, that was so wise,
belike, unto God's presence drawn,
to more of His mysteries had I been led.
But aye will man seize more of bliss
than may abide with him by right.
Wherefore my joy was sunder'd soon,
and I cast forth from realms eterne.
Lord, mad are they that 'gainst Thee strive,
or 'gainst Thy pleasure proffer aught !

CI.

To please the Prince, to be at peace,
good Christian hath it easy here ;
for I have found Him, day and night,
a God, a Lord, a Friend full firm.
Over yon mound had I this hap,
prone there for pity of my Pearl ;
to God I then committed it,
in Christ's dear blessing and mine own,—
Christ that in form of bread and wine
the priest each day to us doth shew ;
He grant we be His servants leal,-
yea, precious Pearls to please Him aye !

Amen. Amen.

Explanatory Notes

Gollancz's line-by-line commentary on the poem, keyed to the line numbers of the Middle English text (each stanza runs twelve lines; stanza I = lines 1–12, stanza II = lines 13–24, and so on). A handful of short Middle English word-forms quoted within these notes retain scan-mangled thorn/yogh characters that could not be confidently restored; see the colophon.

335, also

II. 1 108, 1 1 12. It is possible, though unlikely, that the MS. reading is correct, 'bot' being taken as conjunction ; the inf. after ' seruej bot ' is probably correct ; cp. ' dotj bot,' 17, 18.

337. doel : used here attributively as in the phrase ' dule habit'; see N.E.D. under 'dole.' The phrase is probably slightly different from the compound ' doel-doungoun,' 1187, i. e. the dungeon of grief. Cp. Dunbar, ' The Tua Mariit Wemen and the Wedo,' 1. 420 :

' I droup with ane deid luik, in my dule habite,'

compared with 1. 422 :

' Quhen that I go to the kirk, cled in cairweidis.'

339-40- That is, on account of lamentation for comparalively small losses, oft many a man loses more (than the things he laments)

341. py selnen blesse : to cross oneself ; cp. 'Aryse be tyme oute of thi bedde, And blysse pi brest & thi forhede,' ' Meals & Manners,' p. 266, E.E.T.S., 1904. This seems to be the only possible meaning in this passage, and the word cannot be glossed as 'confer well-being upon,' as O. interprets, from one of the definitions of the word in N.E.D.

342. adyte : cp. endyte, 1126, 'Gawain,' 1600; pref. a- = F. en, perhaps partly due to O.E. adihtan ; but in many cases M.E. a- = A.F. an = O.F. en ; note also doublets with a-, en-, e.£. acroche, encroche (io6g, 11 17); cp. 'endorde,' 368.

343. stynt: MS. sty«st ; it is remarkable that in 'Cleanness,' 359, the scribe has written 'styste^' (3 s. pr. ind.) evidently for 'stytej,' i.e. stywtej, and it looks as though in both these cases he wrote 'stynst' instead of 'stynt.' If, as it would seem, this is an error, the repetition is very noteworthy.

344. sech : cp. rech, 333 ; bysech, 390 (' seke ' is not found in the poems).

345. []?at alle] f>y lurej : MS. & py lure^. The line is obviously imperfect. I suggest that the scribe misread the abbreviated ' Tpat ' and wrote ' & ' instead, and further omitted 'alle.' In corroboration of my emendation I adduce 1. 119, parallel in movement, alliteration and phraseology. Further, the thought of the passage is brought out, the gliding off of the losses resulting from the comfort's assuaging power. There is no reason therefore for taking ' lurej ' in any other sense than ' deprivations, losses.' The word catches up 1. 337. There is nothing to my mind to favour O.'s rendering of the word as ' frowns,' nor his further suggestion that ' leme ' means 'to beat or drive away with blows.' 'Leme of = ' to glance off,' and is used very effectively.

346. marie[d] ojper madde; I adhere to my proposed emendation of marre[d] for MS. marre. The phrase 'to make or mar,' or 'make and mar' is early, though N.E.D.

quotes as earliest instance c. 1420, Lydgate, 'Assembly of Gods," 556:

' Neptunus, that dothe bothe make and marre.'

Prof. Holthausen (Archiv, 90) proposed ' marre of'er mende.' my]7e : all the recorded senses of the word indicate the concealing or dissembling of feelings ; cp. N.E.D. under ' mithe ' ; but here the poet seems to be using the word in the sense of 'to avoid,' hence to escape (mourning). Perhaps here, in view of the rhyme, it means the opposite of ' to mourn,' ;. e. to be happy. The line appears to be the poet's rendering of i Sam. ii. 6 (or one of the parallel passages noted in marginal references): 'The Lord killeth and maketh alive, he bringeth down to the grave and bringeth up.' O. wrongly translates 'grief remembered or forgotten.'

362. ne woT]7e no wiath]pe vnto my loide : MS. wrath >& probably due to -WT&Yps (O.E. wrSSWo) ; ' let there not be wrath unto my lord,' t. e. ' let not my lord be wroth with me.' Prof. Kolbing (Eng. Stud., 1891, p^ 270) finds great difficulty in this rendering of the words. The poet is probably thinking of Abraham's supplication to God on behalf of Sodom (Gen. xviii. 32): 'Obsecro, inquit, ne irascaris Domine si loquar adhuc semel ' ; cp. ' Cleanness,' 11. 689-780.

363. [I] : omitted by scribe ; cp. 81, 977.

364. wyth mysse lemoide: i.e. torn by loss; not 'sin or failure,' as O. interprets the word.

365. I take this now with the next line, not the preceding one, and the meaning to be 'like water pouring from a well, I readily resign myself to God's gracious will.' The poet has in mind such Biblical phrases as Lam. ii. 19 : ' Pour out thine heart like water before the face of the Lord ' ; Ps. Ixii. 8 : ' Trust in him at all times ; ye people, pour out your heart before him.'

366. foiloyne : O.F. forlonger, to go astray, err ; cp. ' 3if I for-loyne as a fol,' ' Cleanness,' 750 ; cp. Note on 1. 362.

367. [k]y]?e3 : MS. lyjjej, cp. I = k, fordo[k]ked, 10 ; the

proposed emendation certainly strengthens the alliteration of the line, and simplifies its construction ; cp. 357, and ' William of Palerne,' 603 :

' A ! curteyse cosyne . crist mot Tpe it selde of pi kynde cumfort . put JJow me kupest aowpe.'

O., keeping 'lyl^ej,' inserts 'wyth' after 'kyndely.'

375. viope: here = 'path,' and is a different word from 'wo]pe^' in 1. 151. The word here is O.E. wa]7, huntingground ; hence, generically, place ; as opposed to O.N. va?Si, peril, danger. The sense is confused if the word is rendered ' danger,' as O. glosses it.

376. iua[ii]eie3 : MS. marerej ; the emendation in the text was first proposed in AthenKum, 1891, No. 3328 ; cp. raanerly = with due courtesy, 'Cleanness,' 91.

377. momyf : cp. 'gyltyf/669.

378. bysech: cp. 'sech,'354.

379. in blysse to biede: i.e. to flourish in bliss; O.E. brJedan, to broaden, extend, is used with reference to leaves and trees flourishing. In this phrase it is not O.E. bredan, to breed, even though it were possible, as O. interprets, to take the word in the sense of ' to dwell.'

380. wage: this can hardly be anything else than the French ' wager,' here evidently used in the sense of ' to be assured,' hence ' endure,' though no parallel of the verb in this sense can be adduced. In 'Gawain,' 1. 532-3,

' Til mejel-mas mone Watj cuOTen wyth wynter wage,'

the sense appears to be ' with the assurance of winter,' i. e. the certainty that winter was coming.

417. sesed: O.K. saisir; cp. 'Gawain' 822, O.F. at >e before s ; e.g. reles, 956 ; corte^, 754, etc.

418. parage : cp. ' Cleanness,' 167 :

'Aproch poM to paX prynce of parage noble.' 429. synglerty : cp. syng[u]l[e]re, 8.

430. Feuyz 0! Anaby : cp. Chaucer, ' Book of the Duchess,' 11. 980-1 :

' Trewly she was to myn ye The Soleyn Fenix of Arabye.'

The poet means that in the uniqueness of her ' douceur,' she is comparable only to the Phoenix, of which there was only one, and which was also immaculate of form. As regards the beauty of the Phoenix, the Anglo-Saxon poem (' Exeter Book,' E.E.T.S., 189s, pp. 200-241) is perhaps the best commentary.

431. Tp&t fieles fle3e: that was wont to fly immaculate of form; 'fleje'used as aorist; 'putfie^e' is little more than a periphrasis for ' bird.'

432. folde: not pt. 3 s. ind., but p.p., 'her face being covered up ' in the hanging folds of her garment.

433. ' Many seek to obtain, and actually obtain a prize.' The line is purposely rhetorical. The point of the word 'porchasej' is that it is used in its literal sense of hunting after, seeking to obtain, and not of acquiring with effort. O., who interprets the word in this way, finds that the figure is not expressive. The whole line is an idiomatic way of saying, ' many find here the prey they seek.'

434. supplaJitoie3 : cp. with reference to the interpretation of Jacob's name, ' supplanter als of heritage,' ' Cursor Mundi,' 3744-

441-4. Cp. 'Cursor Mundi,' 11. 20799-21801 :

' Bot wel we wat, wit-outen wene. Of heuen and erth TpaX scho es quene, Bath imperice and heind leuedi.'

442. bayly : literally, 'jurisdiction'; observe that the word is accented on the second syllable, and rhymes with 'cortaysye'; 'bayly,' from O.F. baillie, is to be carefully distinguished from ' bayly,' a fortress, which represents O.F. bail, baile, bailie. This latter word appears as 'bayly,' 1. 315, and 'baly,' instead of ' bayle,' 1. 1083.

443. propeity : cp. 1. 752.

451- I'D fyue: this seems to mean 'those five,' i.e. five such. But the phrase is difficult. The poet wishes to say ' were five times their value.' ' Five ' is often used idiomatically, cp. 1. 849.

459. naule : i. e. navel, a very common form in the fourteenth century, from O.E. nafela, still found in the dialects ; see N.E.p. and E.D.D. Cp. I Cor. xii. 12-27. O., in commenting on my rendering of the word, condemns it, as being 'regardless of phonology, sense, or poetic delicacy.' As regards phonology, it is very difficult to know exactly what phonological laws he applies. Every known law would corroborate the form, and indeed, in Old Frisian, the forms are both 'navla ' and 'naula.' In respect of O.'s own rendering 'nail/ from O.N. nagli, in the first instance ' nagli ' does not mean ' the nail of the hand ' (which in O.N. is 'nagi'), but 'a nail or spike.' Anyhow, the modern English ' nail ' is from O.E. nsegl, giving the normal M.E. nail. No possible form such as ' naule ' is found, or could be expected, from either the O.E. or O.N. forms. The sense and poetic delicacy, of which I am alleged to be unappreciative, need no defence. It may be, however, pointed out that St. Paul himself refers to members of the body which we think to be less honourable, and even Shakespeare in the play of ' Coriolanus,' where the parable of the body's members rebelling against the belly figures strikingly, actually uses the phrase 'the navel of the State' (III. i. 123), though in a later part of the play.

460. temen : belong to, in the sense of ministering to, subserving ; cp. ' Cleanness,' 9, teme« to hym seluen, i. e. are attached to His service.

t[r]yste: for scribal omission of r cp. st[r]yke3, 11 86. The omission may be an r superscript ; cp. t«ys, 1. 755. The phrase 'true and trist' occurs in M.E., cp. 'trist and trewe,' N.E.D. under ' trist.' There can be little doubt that this is the correct reading. O. explains 'tyste' as from O.N. Jpettr, i.e. tight. But the idea underlying 'teraen,'

and therefore this qualifying phrase, is the loyalty of service, and the fidelity and faithfulness is well brought out by the phrase 'trwe and t[r]yste,' though it would be possible to explain the form ' tyste ' as parallel phonologically to ' myste.'

462. myste: for the general 'myjt'; cp. 'myjte,' 1069, rhyming with ' nyjt,' etc. ' st ' for ' jt ' is a very common writing in MSS. of the thirteenth century and earlier. It is also found in the fourteenth century. Editors have frequently taken the spelling to be erroneous, and have corrected it accordingly. There can be little doubt that the symbol was intentional. Dr. Hall, in his edition of* King Horn ' (Oxford, 1901), discussing the form 'doster' in one of the MSS., deals with 'st' as a mere graphic variation of 'ht' and 'jt.' It would seem, however, from the present passage, that the ' st ' became in some dialects a phonological variant of a sound which was originally difficult for French palates. It is not merely, in this passage, a question of spelling for the sake of rhyme ; it is a most valuable piece of evidence as regards pronunciation.

463. gawle: z. ^. bitterness ; O.E. gealla, bile. The word must, I think, be differentiated from 'galle,' 11. 189, 915, 1060. The phrase ' without gall ' in the first two passages seems to represent O.N. galla-lauss, faultless, from 'galli,' a fault, and in the third place, ' scum' ; cp. glass-gall. In 'Patience,' 285, however, we have the phrase 'gaule of prophetes,' so it looks as though in this latter sense, 'gaule ' were a variant of 'galle.'

463-4. These lines form a question, which is answered in the next couplet.

469-70. 'I allow that courtesy and great charity are among you.' O. annotates that the line = ' I leue cortayse and charyte be grete amo«g yow.'

480. 'than to be crowned king,' hence the necessary change of the MS. 'ho' to 'he' in the previous line.

481. nempet Pater ne Crede : according to the ' Boke of Curtasye,' when the young child fiirst went to school, it learned the Pater and Creed :

' Yf that poa be a jong enfaunt, And thenke po scoles for to haunt, This lessou« schalk Jjy maista/- Ipe merke, Croscrist J>e spede in alle ]?i werke ; Sytthen Tpy pater nosiei he wille Tpt teche, As cristes owne postles con preche ; Aftur Jjy Aue marta and pi crede, pat shalle J?e saue at dome of drede.'

(' Early English Meals and Manners,' p. l8i.) 488. away : cp. 350.

492. date: 'goal'; it is difficult to find any other word that will express its various meanings of time and place in this section.

493. your messe : Matt. xx. 1-16 ; the pronoun indicates the detachment of the speaker from even earthly worship ; cp. 11. 1061-2.

494. In-sample : I still prefer to read this as one word, as the direct object of 'gesse.' The ' i» ' of the scribe may be in place of the author's ' en,' owing to the 'in' of the previous lines.

he : I take the word to stand for Christ, and not, as O. attributes it, to St. Matthew. This misunderstanding, to my mind, is due to reading the lines erroneously, with a comma at the end of 1. 496, and a semi-colon at 1. 498.

500. lykne^ hit : t. e. the parable ; cp. 501.

501. I wate: cp. wot, 47 ; but 'abate,' 1. 617, also used for the sake of rhyme.

502. terme ; z. e. season ; cp. ' Gawain,' 1671,

' Hit watj nej at ]?e terme psX he to schulde.' I do not agree with O. that 'terme' here means 'end,' and that " ' jere ' is evidently thought of as ending immediately after the grape-harvest, in mid-autumn." This seems to ignore ' of tyme,' but anyhow, the sense of the line seems simple and straightforward.

505. [h]ys : MS. l?ys. I still keep my proposed emendation, though I now understand, as I think . the real

significance of the line thus emended. It has hitherto been argued that ' hyne,' as the hirelings, had not previously been referred to ; and O., keeping the MS. reading, interprets the line as a general observation addressed to the reader, meaning, ' These hirelings as a class well know that season of year (vintage), and went to present themselves for hire.' But 'hyne,' as I take the word, is just the opposite of hirelings, and the word implies ' those of his own household.' His household, i.e. his trusty ones, they well know the season and what is expected of them ; it is to supplement their dutiful service that workmen are hired, who afterwards haggle about their pay. The whole idea has been evolved from the use of the word ' paterfamilias ' in the parable ; the ' hyne ' are the ' familia.' Cp. the last line but one of the poem, ' He gef vus to be his homly hyne.' The word also occurs in 1. 632, not as designating the labourers, as O. states, but the innocent, who having been but an hour in the vineyard, are by grace God's 'hyne,' i.e. of the Divine household. In 11. 585-8 it is clearly pointed out that those who have toiled longer may have to wait for their wage. Further, some of the workmen who are satisfied receive their hire, and are dismissed, ' Take that is thine own, and go.' In 1. 572, ' For mony ben calle[d], jjaj fewe be mykej,' the ' mykej ' are the ' electi ' and the ' hyne.' An interesting corroboration of my theory is to be found in the O.E. renderings of ' paterfamilias ' in this very passage ; the Rushworth Gloss gives ' hina feeder,' the Lindisfarne ' higna faeder.'

513. Aboute vnder: cp. circa horam tertiam, Matt. xx. 3.

514. lesnabelet: MS. resonabele. From metrical standpoints, evidently a scribal alteration of the poet's 'resnabele' or 'renable.' So 'Piers Plowman' B., Prologue, 158, 'A raton of renon most renable of tonge,' where the C. text reads ' resonable,' and also ' resnable.' The line means ' what reasonable hire shall be due by night.'

515. wyl day : I now reject my original proposal of reading the two words as one.

516. MS. at J?e day of date. The scribe has evidently transposed ' day ' and ' date,' the meaning being that ' at the time of day of evensong.'

517. go: to be taken as subjunctive; 'one hour before the sun should sink.'

518. f>at at: ^Tpat' antecedent of the Northern relative pronoun ' at.'

519. menyf : MS. meyny, rhyming with ' repren[y],' MS. reprene, peny, etc., cp. Note on 313.

520. seiued: i.e. deserved, not as O. glosses, 'served,' as is clear from the words 'vus pynk so.'

521. waiii[ll]g: the ordinary contraction indicating ' n ' is omitted in the MS., but there is a little mark over the 'i' of an unusual character. I am inclined to think that the mark indicated the intention of the scribe to correct the word to ' wrang.' The poet may well have written this word, translating the Vulgate 'amice non facio tibi injuriam.'

522. More,— welder I[e]uyly : MS. more -weper louyly. This line has hitherto proved a crux. In the first place, ' more ' has been misunderstood. Its force is simply ' moreover,' and it is not merely a mark of interrogation, or a comparative modifying the adjective of the sentence. ' Louyly' I take to be a scribal error for l[e]uyly = O.N. leyfiligr, i.e. permitted or allowed. The words translate ' Aut non licet.' M.E. leflich is a different word, from O.E, leofllc, loveable. The M.E. word corresponding to the present word is 'leueful,' cp. 'leesome,' i.e. M.E. lefsum, from O.E. lef, leaf, permission. So far as I know, 'l[e]uyly ' is not recorded elsewhere in English, and has not been identified before. O.'s ' l[awe]ly ' cannot stand.

Further, the first four lines of this stanza are the poet's translation of the Vulgate, ' Aut non licet mihi quod volo facere, an oculus tuus nequam est, quia ego bonus sum,' Matt. XX. 1 5. The third and fourth lines give the alternative section of the question ; the second Wycliffite version reading : ' Whether it is not leueful to me to do that that Y wole ? Whether thin 136 is wicked, for Y am good ? ' The

idiom of-1. 567 is due to the interrogative '-vitper' being understood. The two couplets are therefore parallel, as in the Vulgate, and the second is not a mere affirmative statement, as O. punctuates.

568. by-swyke^ : ist pr. ind., an exceptional (Northern) inflexion, necessitated by the rhyme.

569. myke^ : I am now inclined to doubt my original suggestion, which seemed plausible, and has been accepted, that 'mykej' represented O.N. 'mikill' and meant 'great ones.' It is true 'mike,' as I pointed out, is found in ' Havelok ' as an adjective for ' mikel,' but no instance occurs of the word as a noun. ' Mykej ' translates ' electi,' and it would appear that 'mik' in the sense of 'a near friend,' existed in Northern English. It occurs in ' Cursor Mundi,' 2807, in the phrase ' sun or doghter, mik or mau,' and in Harding's 'Chronicle' (Harding was a Northerner) 'the Dukes preuy myke' occurs. N.E.D. quotes both these passages as illustrating the present word. It would appear, therefore, that 'myke' means 'someone very near,' even more than a kinsman. The sense of the word in the present passage must mean, ' chosen as special friend, a privy friend.' It suggests the phrase ' homly hyne,' 1. 1 2 1 1 ; see Note on 1. 505. The word seems to be of Scandinavian origin.

570. to-:;eie : the ordinary meaning of this is ' this year,' but here this accepted sense does not bring out the force of the line, which suggests long years to come, rather than this year. Now in North Lancashire the word is used in this idiomatic sense. Cp. ' I have not seen it te-ere ' = yet, for a long time, never, E.D.D.

We get something of the same idiomatic use in Chaucer, ' Cant. Tales,' D. 166-8, the humour of the line being lost through the line not being understood :

' I was aboute to wedde a wyf, alias ! What sholde I bye it on my flesh so dere ? Yet hadde I lever wedde no-Vyf to-yere.'

593. Vulgate, Ps. Ixi. 12, 13 (Authorised Version, Ps. Ixii.

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12): ' Semel locutus est Deus, duo hsec audivi, quia potestas Dei est, et tibi Domine misericordia : quia tu reddes unicuique juxta opera sua.' This passage of the Psalms lent itself to many exegetical interpretations, and the words and the thought, especially the rendering to each man according to his work, are often found in both Old and New Testaments, as may be seen from the marginal references to the passage. But in the present passage I venture to propose that we have a distinct reference to i Peter i. 17-20, as evidenced by my suggested interpretation of 1. 596.

596. ay p[ie]tenuynahle : this word is not recorded elsewhere, nor is it found in late Latin, though N.E.D. suggests that it may represent a scholastic Latin ' preterminalailis.' There is no evidence in support of this, nor of the apparent meaning, in an active sense, ' predetermining, pre-ordaining.' ' P[r^]termynable ' is evidently for ' predetermynable,' for the purpose of euphony and rhyme. We know the meaning of ' determynable,' i. e. fixed, determined ; therefore ' p[r^]termynable ' should mean ' fixed beforehand, pre-ordained,' and this, I think, is the meaning of the word here. ' Thou high King, t. e. Christ, pre-ordained from the beginning,' with a reference to 1 Peter i. 20, ' praecogniti quidem ante mundi constitutionem.' Accordingly, I do not agree with Professor Carleton Brown, that the word here suggests a definite acquaintance with the ' predeterminatio ' of the Schoolmen, nor with O.'s comments on the passage, amplifying the idea of ' fore-ordaining ' with reference to the word.

597. chyche: Professor Carleton Brown appositely quotes from Richard RoUe, ' De Gracia,' cp. Horstmann, ' Richard Rolle of Hampole,' . 133, ' God is na chynche of his grace ; for he haues ynogh ^eroie — for >oie he dele it nt\xer so iexxe / ne to so mony : he haues neu^^ f>e lesse ; for hi;;j wantes noght bot clene vessels : til do his grace inne.' ' Chyche ' is the older form, coexisting with ' chynche,' see N.E.D. under ' chinch.'

598. Misunderstanding of this passage has generally been

due to assuming that ' hys ' repeated in sense the previous occurrences of the word in the lines preceding, and referred to God. But the thought has changed, and the reference is here to man. The freedom or liberty of that man is ample, who has ever stood in fear towards Him Who makes rescue in sin, i. e. there is freedom in heaven where there has been fear on earth. The thought is evidently derived from Ps. cxviii. 45 (English version, Ps. cxix.) : ' Et ambulabam in latitudine : quia mandata tua exquisivi.' Cp. Newman's ' Dream of Gerontius ' ;

'Soul of Gerontius. I feel in me An inexpressive lightness, and a sense Of freedom, as I were at length myself, And ne'er had been before. . . .

Angel

It is because Then thou didst fear, that now thou dost not fear.'

As further parallel to this passage, I may quote from the same poem :

'Fifth Choir of Angelicals. O loving wisdom of our God !

When all was sin and shame A second Adam to the fight And to the rescue came.'

daid : in the sense of ' lurked in dread,' z. e. feared, would under ordinary conditions be followed by 'from,' and not ' to,' but the thought is not of fear that recoils, but the attitude of fear towards God. Accordingly the poet uses ' to ' instead of ' from.' O.'s suggestion that ' dard ' may be an error for ' fard,' i. e. fared, seems to me altogether untenable, as destructive of the poet's meaning.

610. rescoghe : in retaining the MS. reading in place of '[no] scoghe,' suggested by Morris, I pointed out in

'Academy,' July 11, 1891, that the line is a poetical periphrasis for ' the Rescuer, the Saviour.' The technical sense of ' rescue ' applies in a special way to Christ as the rescuer of souls from Limbo (cp. O.F. rescousse, ' Paction de delivrer un prisonnier qui I'ennemi emmfene').

616. [h]ere: MS.lere; for/writtenfor^,cp.2io. Thepoet's regular form is ' hyre,' and it is possible that ' here ' = ' ere ' = O.N. eyri(r), originally an ounce of silver, but used in the more general sense of ' sum of money for payment.' For unessential h, cp. ' [hjeke,' 210. Were this suggestion correct, we should get over the difficulty of two words of identical form rhyming. Cp. O.E. ora, one-eighth of a mark, from O.N.//, aurar.

617. abate: see Note on 1. 502.

618. babtem : cp. baptem, 653.

619. boro^t : cp. bereste, 854.

629-32. The meaning of these lines seems to be clear, though the order of the words requires careful consideration. The sense is ' that day, flecked with darkness, makes incline to the might of death those who had never wrought wrong ere they went thence.' The thought of the passage is missed by taking it, as O. interprets, ' Anon the day, indented with darkness, doth yield to* the power of death.' In consequence of this erroneous rendering, the two lines that follow are taken together by him, with awkward effect.

632. hyne : see Note on 1. 505.

633. 9ys: the last letter is well-nigh faded. Morris suggested ' 3y[rd] ' ; I originally proposed ' 3y[ld] ' ; O. was at a loss to read the letter or letters after ' y.'

634. plyt : see Note on 'ply:?t,' 1075.

635. J?e deth secoimde : see Rev. xx. 14, xxi. 8.

636. glayue : i. e. the spear of Longeus, from John xix. 34. The story is amplified in the Gospel of Nicodemus, whence came the name Longinus (or Longeus), probably from Gk. Kiyxn, a spear.

637. wyth in : MS. wythiwne. But the MS. reading is clearly due to a scribal error which has destroyed not only

the sense, but also the right rhythm of the line. The meaning is simply, 'By means of which Adam drowned us in death.' O. keeps ' wythi«ne ' and considers the line as a case of the poet's ' asyntactic style ' ; he renders as follows : — ' the offence which Adam [by bringing upon us] drowned us in death.'

659. & J^at, i.e. & bot ]?at, continuing the previous sentence.

660. at i]i-oscen[c]e : MS. i«-oscente, obviously a scribal error, for in every other case in the poem ' inoscent ' has no final -e. I take the phrase to mean 'according to (his) innocence.' O. keeps ' i«-oscente,' and suggests that 'at' may be a scribal error for 'J^at,' objecting to my reading as forced, and contrary to the ordinary idiom, 'by' being the preposition elsewhere. But 'at' may be paralleled by ' at my Prynce^ paye,' 1 164.

661. Vulgate, Ps. xxiii. 3, 4 (A.V., Ps. xxiv.).

662. I have little doubt that this was suggested by some commentary that the poet had before him, for I find in the Anglo-Saxon version of the parallel Psalm (Vulgate xiv. 2, Authorised Version xv. 2), ' He that walketh uprightly,' the following introductory words not in the original text : ]7a andswarode Drihten ]?Ees wftgan mode, ]?urh onbryrdnesse ><es halgan gastes ; and cwasj» se wftga, Ic wat, ]7eah ic ahsige, Hwa \xx earda]? ? /. e. the Lord inspires the prophet to ask the question, of which he knows the answer.

663. Hondelynge^ haime ]:'at dyt not ille : I take the whole of this line to be a paraphrase of ' innocens manibus ' ; ' hondelyngej ' is an adverb, and not a noun, as formerly taken, and means 'with his own hands.' The word puzzled me until I found a striking illustration of its adverbial use in Anglo-Saxon : ' Nis be him gerSed Sast he handlinga Snigne man acwealdo,' i. e. ' It is not read of him [/. e. St. Paul] that he killed any man with his own hands,' /Elfric's ' Homilies,' ed. Thorpe, i. 386. The literal meaning of the line is : ' He that with his own hands did no injury through evil intent.' ' lUe ' is not a pleonasm, as might be supposed, but brings out the full sense of the original.

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683. This may have been suggested by Vulgate, Ps. xxv. 12 (Authorised Version, Ps. xxvi.), catching up v. 8.

685-8. This continues Ps. xxiii. (Vulgate), paraphrasing the remaining part of v. 4, ' qui non accepit in vano animam suam, nee juravit in dolo proximo suo.' It is noteworthy that the words 'proximo sue,' 'to his neighbour,' are not in the ordinary Hebrew text nor in the Authorised Version, but are found in the Wycliffite and Prayer Book versions, ' whiche took not his soule in vayn, nether swoor in gile to his ne^bore ' (later Wycliffite version). I do not think there is any reference in the passage to Ps. xiv. (Vulgate), as has been suggested.

690. How kyntly ouie [Eoyntyse hym] con agayle: MS. omits [koyntyse hym]. Dr. Henry Bradley in 'Academy' xxxviii. p. 201, pointed out the source of this passage, namely. Wisdom, ch. x. 10. The obscurity of the line was due to the scribe's omission of some word or two. Dr. Bradley suggested the reading 'how [koyntyse onoure],' but I think the simpler solution is the reading I have suggested in the text. Koyntyse = sapientia. The verse in Wisdom, speaking of 'sapientia,' says, with reference to Jacob : ' Hac profugum irse fratris justum deduxit per vias rectas, et ostendit illi regnum Dei.' The later Wycliffite version, commenting on 'schewide to hym the rewme of God,' explains in the margin that this has reference to Jacob's vision of the ladder that reached to Heaven, for then he had revelation of the heavenly Jerusalem. To the medieval reader, Koyntyse or Wisdom = Christ. Cp. St. Augustine, ' De Trinitate,' iv. 20, ' Cum pronunciatur in Scriptura aut enarratur aliquid de sapientia sive dicente ipsa sive cum de ilia dicitur, Filius nobis potissimum insinuatur.' 'Koyntyse' occurs, according to my interpretation of the line, in the same sense in ' Patience ' 39, ' & by quest of her quoyntyse enquylen on mede,' i. e. by the decision of their Wisdom {i.e. Christ) they receive one reward. The word 'aquyle' occurs again in 1. 967.

691. yle : not ' island,' as formerly interpreted by me, nor

' remote province or land,' as O. proposes, from secondary uses of the word instanced by N.E.D., but in all probability in the sense in which the word occurs in ecclesiastical Latin, ' temple,' with reference to the heavenly Jerusalem, as in the Wycliffite gloss ; it repeats the idea of ' pyle,' 1. 686. 699-700. Ps. cxliii. 2 (Authorised Version).

702. [c]ryed: MS. tryed, but as this word occurs again in the last line but one of the stanza, I think one may safely restore the poet's obvious reading, with its fine alliterative effect.

703. alegge, i.e. renounce, O.E. alecgan, to give up. The whole force of the passage is missed by taking it to be F. alegier, as glossed by O., in the sense of 'to urge in one's defence.'

704. in-nome, z". e. taken in, received. I do not know of the occurrence of the word elsewhere in English, but it evidently existed apart from the present passage ; cp. O. Frisian, innima, to receive (Richthofen, Altfriesisches Wdrterbuch, 1840). O. erroneously refers the word to O.E; genomen, comparing the 'i«-' with the prefix in such words as ' inliche,' ' innoghe.'

705. For 'ry3twysly,' with accent on the first and third syllables, cp. delfully, 706. As regards the second half of the line, if the MS. is correct, 'quo' must be regarded as a monosyllabic foot.

711-24. The reference is evidently to Luke xviii. 15-17 (in view of 1. 721, cp. v. 16, 'Jesus autem convocans illos') in preference to Mark x. 13-16, or Matt. xix. 13-15.

I do not agree with O. that we have here any case of the poet's memory adapting scriptural material from several passages, and therefore blending the versions of Mark and Luke with that of Matthew, nor that 1. 717 is more consistent with Matthew's account. Nor do I hold with him that 'mylde,' in 1. 721, reverts to Matt, xviii. 2, and that 'mylde' = parvulum, a little child. ' Hys mylde ' can hardly be anything but the disciples, the twelve; cp. O.N. guSs mildingr, a man of God. It is noteworthy that the poet

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here rhymes a pi. adj., used as a noun, with the monosyllabic ' chylde.'

726. sulpande: i.e. defiling. The origin of the word is obscure, and N.E.D. notes that it is possibly related to dial. Ger. sulper, solper, bog, mud. It is noteworthy that ' sulp,' also written ' soolp,' occurs in the Shetland and Orkney dialect in the sense of 'a wet state of ground, a marsh.' This is probably, in my opinion, the same word, and further, the Northern English 'sowp,' in the sense of 'to drench, soak,' may well be the variant of the word. Arising from the theme of ' Cleanness,' the word occurs in that poem some five times, namely 575 (by-sulpej), 15, 550, 11 30, II35-

727. Jjurj perre pres : i. e. among excellent gems ; cp. Matt, xiii. 45, 'quEerenti bonas margaritas.' 'Prys' occurs as an adj. in this sense in 'Gawain' 1945, 'suche prys ]?i«ges'; but the form ' pres,' if used as an adj. here, must be compared with the noun 'prese,' 419.

728. Note the caesura after 'fore,' which governs a relative pronoun understood.

729. heuenes [sp]ere : MS. heuenesse clere, but the spelling 'heuenesse' is suspicious, nor is it likely that the poet would repeat 'clere' as a rhyme. He hid in mind the imperial heaven or celestial 'sphere,' where God and the angels were said to dwell. The seven (or later the eleven; spheres, are often referred to, see under 'heaven' 4, and ' sphere,' N.E.D. Concerning the spheres, see Caxton's ' Mirrour of the World,' ed. Prior, E.E.T.S. Extra Series CX., especially ch. xxiii., on the Celestial Heaven.

730. commune : evidently here used in the sense of 'common as a possession or mark.' The spotless pearl is the common badge of the righteous, as the celestial heaven is the home they have in common. It is indeed the 'peculium' of the righteous, even as is heaven. The pearl may not be visible on the righteous while on earth, though in heaven it becomes the visible emblem of the sinless, but it is none the less their common badge. The

passage is somewhat subtle, but I do not agree with O. that it is somewhat confused. There are in commentaries on Matt. xiii. 45-6 many different interpretations of the pearl, but in this verse the poet makes it clear that 'righteousness' comprehends them all.

740. hit stode : this seeming past tense has hitherto been accepted as the poet's loose way of making the tense accommodate itself to the rhyme, for one would expect the present. The poet, however, has not done this ; ' stode ' is a substantive corresponding to the modern ' stud,' in its original sense of ' support,' here suggestive of the setting. ' Hit ' is the possessive pronoun; cp. 11. 108, 120, 224, 446. The omission of the verb after ' lo ' is characteristic ; cp. 11. 693, 822. The present instance of 'stode' antedates by many years the instances of the word given in N.E.D.

741. pes: cp. 1. 1 201.

748-g. Cp. ' Romaunt of the Rose ' where Reason, whose attributes are so closely transferred to Pearl, is described in the Chaucerian version :

' Hir goodly semblaunt, by devys, I trowe wore maad in paradys ; Nature had never such a grace To forge a werk of such compace. For certeyn, but the letter lye, God him-silf, that is so high, Made hir aftir his image' (11. 3205-11.)

750. Fymalyon : the story of Pygmalion is given at length in the ' Romaunt of the Rose,' and it is interesting that Chaucer, as our poet, had in mind the passage in question in 'Canterbury Tales,' C. 10-15.

' Lo ! I, Nature, Thus can I forme and peynte a creature, Whan that me list ; who can me countrefete ? Pigmalion noght, though he ay forge and bete. Or grave, or peynte.'

See Professor Skeat's note on the passage, Vol. V., pp. 260-1.

751. Arystotel : references to the philosopher are, of course, very common in medieval literature generally ; but the use of the word 'propsit[y]^' suggests knowledge of medieval logic.

lettniie: learning or science; cp. 'Gawain,' 1513, 'pe lettrure of amies.' I do not agree with O. that ' writings, books' seems more appropriate, though this sense of the word is found.

753. flour-de-lys : cp. Hymn to the Virgin, ' Heil fairer then the flour de lys,' N.E.D. under ' fleur-de-lys.'

754. o£ triys : z. e. of truce, very much in the sense of 'peace' in 1. 742. Pearl has stated that the pearl has been placed on her breast in token of peace. 'What kind of peace,' asks the father, 'bears as symbol or token the spotless pearl ? ' In the lines that follow the answer is given.

' of iriys ' is written in the MS. with a small i after the i as the usual abbreviation for 7-t.

O. reads 'offys,' and maintains that this is the reading of the MS., and that the second /is spread. From a careful examination of words containing _ff', I have no doubt that the reading ' of iriys ' is correct.

759-60.2. e. 'chose me as His bride, although unfitting that union might once have seemed (while I was on earth).' There should be no pause after 'vnmete,' and the whole sense of the passage is lost by placing a full-stop after ' wete.' The stanza has hitherto been misinterpreted.

763-4. Song of Sol. iv. 7-8, ' tota pulchra es amica mea, et macula non est in te. Veni de Libano sponsa mea ; veni de Libano, veni.' The verse, as pointed out by Dr. Holthausen, is quoted far and wide in medieval literature ; cp. ' Olympia,' 1. 235. Chaucer puts the same refrain, as though it were a popular catch, in the mouth of his Friar, Prologue, 1. 672.

768. [He] py^t: MS. & pyjt, probably due to the '&' in the previous line. The sense and force of the line seem to be restored by the emendation.

769. bryd : O., printing ' byrd ' in his note, thinks that the poet intends a pun. The context, he says, points unmistakably to the meaning 'bride,' but 'flambe,' cp. 1. 90, shows that he is thinking of 'bird.' To my mind there is not the least suggestion of ' bird ' ; the bride is all radiant with light.

770. a comly on-vundei cambe : ' a comely one under comb ' is one of many ' kennings ' for a woman ; the only instance I can call to mind is from Cromek's ballad of ' The Lord's Mairie' ;

' Come, here's thy health, young stranger doo, Wha wears the gowden kame.'

786. [fowre] : not in MS., but it is hardly likely that the poet would have been inaccurate in the number, seeing that he gives the reference to the Apocalypse, and quotes the correct number, 11. 869-70 ; cp. Rev. xiv. i.

791-2. Rev. xix. 7-8.

799-804, 807-8. Isa. liii. 4-9.

817. [In] Jeiusalem : I propose the insertion of [i;z], as without some such words there is apparently no syntax in the lines, and in the beginning of each of the other verses the refrain is ' o ' or ' in,' taken from the last words of the previous stanzas.

The reference to John's baptizing in Jerusalem, Jordan, and Galilee, on which occasions his words accorded to Isaiah, presents difficulties. The words of Isaiah to which reference is made would seem to be Isa. xl. 3-8, 'The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness. Prepare ye the way of the Lord,' etc. In Matt. iii. i he speaks these words when preaching in the wilderness of Judaea, evidently near Jerusalem, for the people went out to him from there. In Mark i. 4 the passage is well-nigh the same. In Luke iii. 3 he baptized in 'the country about Jordan.' From these passages Jerusalem and Jordan might be associated with his baptizing and reference to Isaiah's words. Hitherto the difficulty has been the poet's reference to Galilee. O. states

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that 'Jjer-as' of 1. 8i8 must refer to Jordan. 'There is no account,' he writes, ' of John's having preached or baptized elsewhere than in the region of Jordan,' and he adds that Herod, who imprisoned and beheaded John, was Tetrarch of Galilee, and suggests that this accounts for the place being named. Our poet, however, had excellent authority in John i. 28, where A. V. reads ' Bethabara beyond Jordan,' but the Vulgate reads ' Bethania trans lordanem,' so too the Wycliffite versions. It was because of the words ' trans lordanem ' that Origen preferred the reading ' Bethabara,' though the MS. evidence was admittedly against it, seeing that it could not be the Bethany referred to in the Gospel, which was to the east of Jerusalem on the road to Jericho. As Jesus, according to Matt. iii. 13 and Mark i. 9, came from Galilee, so that ' Bethany beyond Jordan ' may well have been identified with the neighbourhood of Galilee, Conder (' Encyc. BiWica,' under 'Bethabara') suggests the identification of the spot with the Makhadet 'Abara, N.E. of Beisan. It is noteworthy that after the words 'hasc in Bethania facta sunt trans lordanem,' John adds ' ubi erat Joannes baptizans,' even as our poet writes in 1.818' ]7er-as baptysed pe goude Say^zt Jon,' so that ' Galalye ' is pointedly the antecedent of 'j'er-as,' and further, the original of 11. 820-4 immediately follows in the Gospel, John i. 29.

824. vpon : prep, placed after the pronoun it governs, i. e. ' vpon paX' ; but probably without any idea of ' accumulation or amassing ' as O. suggests. Its force is little more than 'at,' cp. 'vpon fyrst,' 'Gawain,' 11. 9, 301, 1934. The sense is, therefore, 'at which all this world has worked' ; cp. 'My wreched wylle in wo ay wra3te.' In I. 1054 'vpone' rhymes with ' mone.'

825-8. These lines are not to be considered as expanding the quotation from John i. 29, but as amplification from Isaiah liii. 6-9.

826. on hym self he eon al clem, cp. Isa. liii. 6, ^fiosuit •Dominus in eo iniquitatem omnium nostrum.' For the form

'clem,' instead of the usual 'claim,' see N.E.D. under 'claim.' M. suggested 'clem'<O.E. clSraan, to smear; 'cleme' occurs in 'Cleanness,' 1. 312, in the sense of 'daub.' It is hardly likely that the poet would use this word in the present passage.

834. bi Apokalypej : from here to 1. 1128 the Apocalypse is the main source of the poet's inspiration.

835-7. Cp. Rev. V. 6-8, I.

836. sajt) MS. saytj ; the MS. reading is more likely to have been due to ' sa3 ' than ' syj,' as the form ' satj ' (= saytj) is used ; cp. 1. 677.

837. Cp. Rev. V. i.

838. Rev. V. 13.

841-4. I Peter i. 19 ; cp. Exod. xii. 5. Rev. i, 14 ; cp. Dan. vii. 9.

843. inask[e]lle: MS. masklle; perhaps the correct reading should be ' maskle ' ; cp. wyt^-outen mote oper mascle, 726, maskle, ' Cleanness,' 556.

845-6. Rev. xiv. 5.

848. [nlofiei strot ne stryi : MS. non oper, but usual form in MS. is 'nauj^er.' The extension of this form into 'non opet ' may have been due to intermediate forms ' nowther ' ; cp. ' Gawain, '659, ' noper,' the ' non ' being due to an effort to explain the following ' bot.'

853-64. This, if any, of the six stanzas in this section, may represent a discarded stanza that has been against the poet's intention copied by the first copyist.

859-60. 'We have fullest knowledge of this one thing, namely, that salvation comes to us from the One Death.' This, I think, must be the meaning of these lines. Anyhow, the second of the two lines cannot possibly mean, as O. translates, ' Our dread of the bodily death hath been realized.'

866-900. In Appocalyppece : cp. Rev. xiv. 1-5.

869. & wyth hym maydennej : cp. 'virgines enim sunt,' Rev. xiv. 4. In the original, ' virgines ' refers specifically to chaste men, but the poet is evidently using ' maydennej ' in the more limited sense of virgins ; cp. 11. 785-8. So in earlier

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hotniletic literature ; cp. ' Hali Meidenhad,' ed. Cockayne, E.E.TS. 1866, p. 22.

874. Cp. ' tanquam vocem aquarum multarum,' Rev. xiv. 2. l[e]den, MS. laden, probably with the idea of 'heavily

laden ' ; the emendation is justified by 1. 878.

875. Cp. 'tanquam vocem tonitrui magni,' Rev. xiv. 2. ]?rowe5 in torrej bio : probably little more than ' hurtles in

lowring skies,' literally, peaks, then the peak-like cloudshapes ; cp. 'Cleanness,' 951, 'Clowdej clustered bytwene kesten vp torres.' In the alliterative 'Troy Book,' 1893, ' torres ' = high peak-like waves.

879. a note ful nwe : z. e. a new tune. ' Note ' is a synonym for 'song' in 1. 882. I do not think it carries, as O. suggests, any suggestion of 'note,' 1. 155, in the sense of 'matter.'

880. Cp. Vulgate, Rev. xiv. 2, ' sicut citharcedorum citharizantium in citharis suis ;' first Wydifiite version 'as of harpers harpinge in her harpis.'

881. a gentyl carpe : i. e. a noble theme. I take ' carpe ' to refer to the matter of the song ; cp. ' Cleanness,' 23, ' Kryst kydde hit hym self '\n a carp onej ' ; also ibid. 1. 1327. If the scribe omitted 'con' before 'carpe,' the meaning would be ' In accents clear one maiden spoke' {i. e. led).

882. moteles : cp. Rev. xiv. 5, 'sine macula sunt.'

901-2. The movement and the thought of the lines surely require that the first two lines form a complete thought, as indicated. O. places a full-stop after the first ' I,' and a comma after 'appose.'

904. ichose : this is the only case in the four poems of a p.p. with i- prefixed, a mark of a more southern dialect. In 'i-brad,' 'Cleanness,' 1693, a past tense, the prefix is equally anomalous, but in this case probably affected the meaning of the word ; cp. ' bradde,' ' Gawain,' 1. 1928.

905. The words in the present line are evidently suggested by Abraham's words in Gen. xviii. 27 ; cp. ' Cleanness,' 736, ' Jiat mul am & aske3.'

amon[c] : MS. amo«g. In 1. 470 'amo«g' rhymes with ' jonge ' ; in 1. 1 165 ' flonc ' (= ' flong ') with ' ronk,' etc.

906. Cp. 1. 269.

907. sympelnesse : the word is perhaps suggested by ' Simplesse,' one of the arrows of Cupid in the ' Romaunt of the Rose,' i. e. one of the attributes of Womanhood, that wound the heart of the lover. It evidently means Simplicity as contrasted with Pride, one of the evil arrows; it hurts less than Beauty. The father has already addressed Pearl as a ' reken rose,' 1. 906, and he continues, ' Now, great lady, in whose heart was set Simplicity, I would ask for a straightforward answer to my question.'

908. [w]ose: MS. blose. The word ' blose ' has proved a stumbling-block. Morris suggested O.N. blossi, a flame ; I formerly adduced O.F. bios = privd ; O. notes ' bloss ' from E.D.D. = a buxom young woman. But all these words are impossible as origins of 'blose.' I am convinced that the word is due to a scribal error, the bl being a scribal misreading of w, which is easily mistaken in certain scripts for bl or bb, especially when followed by 0. Moreover, the word 'wose' may well have puzzled the scribe. It is the O.E. wasa, only hitherto found in the compound ' wudu-wasa,' a wild man of the woods, a faun or satyr. The word maintained itself through the centuries; our poet uses it in ' Gawain,' 721, 'wodwos, JJat woned i« Jje knarrej,' and it appears in the ' Wars of Alexander,' 1 540, ' full of wodwose, and d^er wild bestis.' The word was early used heraldically for the wild man, 'savage-man or wood-man,' with a club, generally appearing as a supporter of a shield ; cp. ' Buke of the Howlat,' 1. 616, 'The rouch Wodwyss wyld, that bastounis bare.' Later, the word was corrupted into Woodhouse ; see Strutt, ' Sports and Pastimes of the English People,' 1831, pp. i6t, 253, 378, and cp. Note on 'wodwyse,' 'Winner & Waster,' 11. 70-1. The present is the only instance, if I am correct, of 'wose' without 'wode,' but the correctness of the suggestion is borne out by the cross-alliteration of this and the next line taken together.

Further, the word 'bustwys' is often the epithet, as N.E.D.

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points out, of a boar or bear, meaning rude, savage, rough, violent. The derivation of the word is difificult. N.E.D. points out that in phonology and form the M.E. word corresponds to O.F. boisteus, A.F. boistous. Mod. Fr. boiteux, meaning 'lame,' which Diez refers to 'boiste,' box. Skeat, on the other hand, derives M.E. 'boistous' from the O.F. or A.F., going back to a Scand. source ; cp. Norw. baust. The base of this word = English ' boast ' ( = A.F. bost).

I venture to suggest that there are really two words 'boistous' ( = later 'boisterous') in M.E., hitherto not differentiated, and that the two words of diflferent origin, though they may well have flowed together, are both used in their special senses in the present poem, the one, O.F. boisteus = wooden, cp. 1. 814, 'a bostwys bem,' the other in the present passage, in the sense of 'wild, blustering,' O.F. or A.F. boisteus, from Scand. root, to be bold, to bluster.

912. bone vayl[e] : MS. bone vayl ; cp. fayly, 34, fayle, 317. ' Bone ' is disyllabic ; cp. 'bone' 916, rhyming with 'to done,' 'won[e]' (MS. won), etc.

913. Cp. Note on 1. 463.

914. hone: this seems to mean 'to delay or tarry,' hence 'to abide or be' ; see N.E.D. The origin of the word is not known ; the noun is common in the phrase ' without hone.'

915. theme: th probably alliterative with /in 'take'; cp. ' Patience ' 358, ' ]7e trwe tenor of his teme.'

916. Cp. Rev. iii. 12, 'et nomen civitatis Dei mei novse Jerusalem.' Our poet, however, in using the word ' mene,' seems to refer to some alleged etymology of Jerusalem. Among the several interpretations was one meaning 'foundation of Shalem, i. e. God of peace.'

Syjt of pes : ' visio pacis ' was the commonest etymological interpretation of the name, being due to the attempt to associate the first part of the word with 'jireh,' i.e. 'will see ' ; cp. Gen. xxii. 14.

In Old English literature from Cynewulf onward, the

supposed etymological significance of Jerusalem is often referred to ; cp. Crist, 49-50 :

'Eala, sibbe gesihS, Sancta Hierusalem, Cyne-stola cyst, Cristes burg-lond,'

/. e. ' O Sight of Peace ! Holy Jerusalem !

Choicest of royal thrones ! Citadel of Christ.'

961. By a scribal error, this verse begins a new section in the MS.

962. The or in ' flor,' etc. = our; cp. stanza xxxvi.

963. agtuylde : cp. ' aquyle,' 690. This word, as well as the thought of the whole passage, is, I have little doubt, suggested by the part of Bel Acueil, ' fitz de Courtoysie,' i. e. Fair Welcome, the son of Courtesy, who plays so important a part in the ' Romaunt of the Rose.' Fair Welcome instructs the lover how he may see the object of his lovelonging. In the Chaucerian version Bialacoil first appears in 1. 2984. Similarly we have the figure of Grace Dieu, in Deguilleville's 'Pfelerinage de I'homme,' who instructs the Pilgrim.

964. tyl on a hyl : the poet does not see the city on the hill, but he, being on a hill, beholds the New Jerusalem. The poet is in the position of St. John, Rev. xxi. lo-ii, ' Et sustulit me in spiritu in montem magnum et altum, et ostendit mihi civitatem sanctam Jerusalem descendentem de cselo a Deo, habentem claritatem Dei.' Possibly the 'in spiritu' of the passage accounts for the 'be veued,' 976, i. e. be brought, wafted.

965. keued: cp. 320. N.E.D. thinks that the suggestion that both these words are derived from O.N. kefja, to sink, is scarcely satisfactory for this passage. O. emends, and reads 'breued,' i.e. described, revealed. But 'keued' is the most fitting word in the passage. The dreamer is on the hill, and he sees the New Jerusalem descended, sunk down from heaven; hence the appropriateness of the word.

966. Cp. Rev. xxi. 18.

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990. buiuist bioun : metrically these words are difficult. I suggest that 'broun' = 'beroun' ; cp. borojt = bro^t, 628, bereste = breste, 854. As regards ' burnist,' the inchoative suffix received, if not the chief accent, almost an equal accent with the root syllable ; cp.

' Off clothes of gold burneysshed bright.' (' The Adulterous Falmouth Squire,' 1. 278, in ' Political, Religious and Love Poems,' E.E.T.S. 1903.)

992. Cp. Rev. xxi. 14.

bantelej: cp. bantels, 1017. In 1. 1022 these bantels are described as 'twelue de-gres,' i.e. twelve steps, and we may infer that whatever is the origin of the word, the sense is 'risings or steps,' at the top of which the wall rises sheer. As regards the origin of this difficult word, I still adhere to my view that 'bantel' (with / for d, as in other cases in this dialect) = O.F. bandel, derived from O.H.G. band, and signifying a projecting course. A series of these would form a flight of steps. There is little likelihood of the word being connected with ' enbaned,' or ' embaned,' as O. suggests, though this word occurs in connection with ' bantelles ' in ' Cleanness,' 1459, where the reference is to the rich cups of the Temple :

' Cou^^-ed cowpes foul clene, as casteles arayed, En-baned vnder batelment viyth bantelles quoy«t.'

Here the reference is to the corbel-steps (popularly known as corbie-steps) under the battlements.

993. f oundemente^ = Vulgate ' fundamenta.' 997-1016. Cp. Rev. xxi. 19-20.

looi. be glente giene : the poet evidently had before him some Lapidary, or commentary dealing with the precious stones in the Bible, for he shows his knowledge of

' the fynest stones faire That men rede in the Lapidaire ;'

as Chaucer puts it in ' The Hous of Fame,' Bk. III. 11. 261-2. See Skeat's note on the lines.

As regards the green jasper, Pliny's statement is as follows: ' A kind of jasper likewise there is of a green colour, and the same oftentimes is transparent : and although there be many other stones go beyond it in richesse, yet it retaineth still the ancient glory and honour that it had' ('Sundry kinds of jaspers,' Bk. XXXVII. ch. ix., Holland's translation, 1634-)

1005. pe emeiade ... so giene o£ scale : cp. Pliny, ' Emeralds for many causes deserve the third place, for there is not a colour more pleasing to the eye. True it is that we take great delight to behold green herbs and leaves of trees, but this is nothing to the pleasure we have in looking upon the emerald, for compare it with other things, be they never so green, it surpasses them all in pleasant verdure ' {/iiti, ch. v,).

ioo6. sacdonyse : cp. sardonice, ' N. Test, in Scots,' ed. Law, Scottish Text Society, 52.

1007. [saide] : MS. rybe ; Vulgate sardius, with v.r. sardinus, Wycliffite versions, sardius. ' Sardius ' was the first of the precious gems on the High Priest's breast-plate ; A.V. ruby, R.V. 'sardius' in text, 'ruby' in margin. It is noteworthy that our poet uses ' sardiners,' probably an error for 'sardines,' in 'Cleanness,' 1469, a form with which he would have been acquainted from Rev. iv. 3 as well as possibly from his reading of Mandeville in French (the English version has 'sardone'). It is possible that the French Mandeville's ' sardoine ' is properly sardonyx. The poet could hardly have sacrificed the ready alliteration, the substitution of 'rybe 'for 'sarde' must have been due to a scribe's effort to differentiate ' sarde ' from ' sardonyse.' The likeness of the two words may have been more striking if the poet used such a form as 'sardine.'

loii. ]pe beryl cler & quyt: the ordinary comment on ' beryl,' Rev. xxi. 20, is that the stone was of a green colour, and such is the general acceptance of the word. But early

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in the Middle Ages beryl was used much in the sense of crystal, and in this sense is common in Middle English. Hence Chaucer's

■ walles of beryle That shoon ful lighter than a glas.'

('Hous of Fame.' III. 198-9.)

Cp. Med. Latin berillus, which was applied also to crystal, hence M.H.G. berille. Mod. G. brille, spectacles. The identification of beryl and crystal must have been due to the special kind of beryl described by Pliny as the beryls ' crystalline, which are white and come very near to crystals.' Cp. ' Cleanness,' 554, ' As ]?e beryl bornyst byhouea be clene.' 1012. pe topasye twynne-how: Vulgate topazius. Our author has had before him some commentary on these stones, hence ' twy«ne-how,' i.e. two-colour, used adjectivally, as though 'twin-hued.' ' How' may be a scribal error for ' hew ' ; cp. 11. 304, 308. The reference is probably to the yellow-giesn of the stone ; cp. Bede, ' Explan. Apocalypsis,' ' topasius . . . duos habere fertur colores ; unum auri purissiml.'

1014. jacyl>gh[t]: MS. jacyngh ; but final ng-k is not a possible spelling for our poet, and we may safely assume that the scribe has left out the /. Cp. O.F. jacincte ; other M.E. spellings are 'jacinct, jasynkt'; see N.E.D. Cp. bro3[t], 286.

1015. [try]este: MS. gentyleste. It is certain that the scribe has made an error here, due to his having written 'gent' in the previous line. The poet would not have repeated the epithet, nor would he have used so colourless a word with his obvious knowledge of the wonderful powers attributed to the amethyst. No stone was so efficacious in all difficulties, not only, as its derivation was said to imply, as a preventive of intoxication, but as a ' sovereign remedy against charms and sorceries that be practised, with poisoning ' (Pliny, Bk. xxxvil. ch. ix.). Some effective epithet would have been used by our poet, and although certainty is not

possible, I have made bold to insert 'tryeste,' i.e. surest, safest, alliterating with ' twelfj^e,' in place of the erroneous ' gentyleste.' plyt: see Note on 1. 1075.

1 01 6. puipre wyth ynde blente: see Pliny, as in previous note ; also cp. Trevisa, ' Barth. De P. R.,' xvi. ix. ' Amatistus is purpre red in colour medelyd wyth colour of uyolette.'

1017. b[r]ent: MS. bent. The emendation is due to the impossibility of interpreting 'bent,' and to my conviction that the poet is here referring to Rev. xxi. 12, 'et habebat murum magnum et altum.' Graphically, the poet glances from the steps to the great high wall, even as he makes Gawain, when he reaches the castle, pass from his description of the moat to the wall that went deep in the water,

' Ande eft a ful huge heat hit haled vpon lofte,'

(1. 788).

Also cp. 'Cleanness,' 1381. For 'brent' see 1. 106, 'Gawain,' 2165; 'brentest,' 'Cleanness,' 379.

1018. jaspoiye: 'ex lapide iaspide,' Rev. xxi. 18. The form ' jasporye ' is anomalous ; it cannot be a variant of jasper, 11. 999, 1026. There may be some adjectival formation parallel to such a word as 'diapery,' 'jasporye' standing therefore for 'jasper s^one.' The may well be a scribal error for e. But in 1026 we have ' ]?e wal of jaspei.'

as glas fiat glysnande schon : these words qualify ' jasporye,' and are due, I think, to Rev. xxi. 11, 'tanquam lapide jaspidis, sicut crystallum.' The Greek is altogether clearer, loiririSi KpvffTa\i(ai'Tt, i. e. jasper crystal-clear. There were various kinds of jasper, and Pliny notes that there was ' a Jasper which seemeth as it were infected with smoke' (Bk. XXXVII. ch. ix.).

1024. Cp. Rev. xxi. 16, 'longitudo et altitudo et latitude ejus aequalia sunt.' ' Ful fayre ' is perhaps suggested by ' asqualia,' and if so, means ' full, evenly,' otherwise, simply ' full clear to view.'

1025. Rev. xxi. 21, 'platea civitatis aurum mundum.

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■ tanquam vitrum perlucidum ' ; Wycliffite versions 'stretes,' A.V. 'street.' Vulgate reads 'platea,' but other codices 'platese.' Cp. strate3, 1043 ; vch a strete, 1059.

1026. glayre, i. e. the glair or white of egg, well known in the Middle Ages in various processes, but here especially with reference to its brightness. At first sight it would seem that the poet is crudely repeating 11. 1017-18, but this is not the case. In the previous passage he is emphasising the brightness of the jasper ; here, its transparency, preparing the way for his description of the 'wonej wytA-i«ne.' ' Glayre ' cannot come from O.E. glaer, amber, as O. suggests, comparing Ezek. viii. 2 and i. 27.

1027. ]7e wone^ wyth-inne enumed: nothing is said in Rev. xxi., the passage which the poet is paraphrasing, concerning the dwellings within, but the phraseology used by our poet with reference to these dwellings is derived from V. ig, which in the earlier Wycliffite rendering runs as follows : 'And the foundementes of the wal of the citee ourned with al precious stoon,' the various stones of the foundations being then mentioned. It seems, to me just possible that the poet's transference of the words belonging to the foundations (already described by him) to the dwellings within the wall may have been due to a reference at this place in his commentary or text to Isa. liv. 11, 12, ' Behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires. And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones.' It was important for our poet to bring in a reference to 'wonej,' seeing that the whole episode of the revealing to him of the New Jerusalem is the answer to the poet's question,

' Haf 3e no wonej \n castel-walle, Ne man^r?' (11. 917-18).

For the phrase 'wonej wytA-i«ne,' compare 'Cleanness,' 1391, ' Heje houses w^t^-i«ne.' 1030. Twelue [)70wsande] Jorlongefer: MS. twelue forlonge space er. The poet certainly did not depart from his original. I have no doubt that 'space' was a marginal gloss on 'sware' of the previous line, and got by scribal mistake into this line. The erroneous insertion of the word probably antedated the omission of ' ]?owsande,' which was then dropped for metrical considerations. 'Sware' must have puzzled some reader, for the word is used here in the sense of ' side of a square,' referring to linear measurement.

1031. to cayre, i.e. in the traversing (gerundial inf.), in the going from point to point. The word 'cayre' cannot well come, as O. maintains, from F. quarer 'with the vowel slightly modified for rime.' Seeing that the rhymes of the whole verse are on are and aire, the poet would not here have ventured on the slight modification for rhyme.

1033-42. Rev. xxi. 12, 21.

1035. pouisent : I now hold that this is the correct reading, and not ' poz^^eut,' i. e. succession, the meaning being 'precinct' or earlier 'purcint'; cp. 'Cleanness,' 1385, ']3e place }?at plyed J>e pursauwt wyth-i«ne,' the sense being 'boundary or limit or compass,' though this meaning, so far as N.E.D. gives instances, seems rather later.

In Rev. vii. 5-8, and in Ezek. xlviii. 31-34, the order of

»the names, i.e. their nativities or fortunes of birth, is not

that of birth ; 'byrf>[e]-whatej' evidently refers to Gen. xlix.

1-28, Jacob's blessing of his sons in their birth order — 'all

these are the twelve tribes of Israel.'

1041. byr]?[e]-whate3 :?.^. birth omens ; O.E.hwast. Morris and O. read ' byr]? whatej,' making ' whatej '= ' watj,' ' was ' ; an absolutely impossible solution of the problem. Otherwise, 'hwatej' must be taken as a verb (cp. O.N. hvata), with the sense of ' hastens, runs.'

1043-8. stiate3: cp. 'stretej,' 1025, and 'strete' (rhyming), 1059. Cp. Rev. xxi. 23.

1050. [sjyjt: MS. lyjtj ; but it is hardly likely that the poet would have repeated the rhyming word in the same stanza. The obvious meaning is that ' on account of the subtle clearness nothing hindered sight,' i. e. he could look through

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the walls. O. strangely renders ' for air so subtle and clear could bar no light.'

105 1-3. Cp. Rev. iv. 1055-60. Rev. xxii. i.

1058. foysoun : at first sight this would seem to be a noun used anomalously as an adj. No similar instance occurs in English, but Godefroy gives examples of the word as an adverb, and its adjectival use may be assumed.

1059. galle o]7ei glet : cp. Note on 463.

1061-3. Rev. xxi. 22.

1064. Rev. V. 6. 1065-6. Rev. xxi. 25.

1065. wata : the poet uses the past tense, though in Rev. xxi. 25 we have the future. I suspect 'watj' with plural subject, and am inclined to think that the scribe, having written ' watj ' three times, in the previous four lines, has by an error repeated it instead of writing ' wern.'

1067-8. Rev. xxi. 27. 1069-76. Rev. xxi. 23, xxii. 5.

1070. spotty: cp. Milton, 'Paradise Lost,' I. 287-90 :—

' The moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesol^, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands.'

1071. Perhaps the poet wrote ' & also per-as nis neuer nyjt,' z. e. ' And also where is never night, why should the moon,' etc. If so, there would be a stop at ' grym.' Cp. Rev. xxi. 25.

1072. & to euen: for added 'to' in the second of two infinitives, cp. ' Cleanness,' 53-4,

' f>at Jjay samne schulde, & in comly quoyntis to com to his feste.'

O. reads ' to-euen,' but the compound does not occur.

1075. plyjt: one would expect 'plyt,' condition (O.F. plite) ; not 'plyjt,' O.E. pliht, peril. I am of opinion that the two words were used indifferently by our poet ; here ' plyjt ' = ' plyt ' ; 'plyt,' 647, 1015 = ' ply3t ' ; but 'plyt' correctly, 1 114.

1077-80. Rev. xxii. 2.

1083. ba[y]l[e] : MS. baly ; see Note on 1. 442.

1084. dased auayle : the reference is evidently to the ' couching,' i. e. the crouching or cowering of the quail ; cp. Chaucer, ' Clerk's Tale,' 1 1 50 :

' Thou shalt make him couche as dooth a quaille.'

Couch-quail, in the phrase ' to play couch-quail,' is recorded in the early sixteenth century, in the sense of ' to cower, to crouch timidly' ; see N.E.D.

1086. for ferly : this phrase looks like a weak repetition of 'so ferly,' 1. 1084. It ™ay mean 'because of my wonder at,' or ' because of the marvel of ; but in view of the previous line, the sense is evidently the former : cp. 11. 183-8, where 'hende as hawk' is parallel to 'dased quayle.' I am inclined to hold that the poet wrote ' for-ferlyd,' i.e. utterly astonished.

freuch : Morris ' french ' ; whatever the significance of the word, 'freuch' may safely be accepted, as formerly proposed by me. I am no longer of opinion that it is the Scottish frusch, frush, freuch, fragile (cp. O.F. fruisser, to bruise), which is synonymous with ' frough,' of obscure origin, with meanings suggestive of 'frail, brittle, not to be depended on,' and is referred back to an O.E. ""froh ; so O. renders 'frail, uncertain, evanescent.' But it is not likely that such an epithet would be applied by the poet to the New Jerusalem. I have little doubt that we have here the M.E. corresponding to M.H.G. vro, O.Fris. fro, O.S. frao, gen. frahes, meaning 'joyous.'

Jygure : ' shape, form,' here very much as ' fasure,' 1084, not ' vision ' -as O. glosses.

1 106. Rev. xxi. 21.

1107. Hundieth ^^owsandej : perhaps suggested by the number of the angels in Rev. v. 11.

1 108. liure: MS. liure^. The collective sg. is what one would expect here, and not the plural, and the emendation is further justified by the sg. verb. The scribe has, in my opinion, made a similar error as regards 'wedej,' 11 12,

though there he may have been influenced by metrical considerations.

1 11 1. red g[ol]de cler: this does not occur in Rev., but is evidently due to the Song of Songs v. il, 'caput eius aurum optimum.' It is not, as O. notes, ' apparently added for embellishment by the poet.'

1 112. Cp. 11. 841-4.

11 13. thione: elsewhere 'trone' ; this looks like an intentional variant directly from the Lat. thronus {e.g. Rev. iv. 5), used here by the poet to avoid the repetition in the line of the same sound. O., comparing ' theme,' 1. 944 = ' teme,' would make 'throne' = 'trone.'

1 119-20. Rev. v. 8.

1 12 1, legyounes o£ aungelej : cp. Rev. v. 11 ; as N.E.D. points out, ' legion,' in the sense of a vast host or multitude, with special reference to angels or spirits, is a reminiscence of Matt. xxvi. S3. Cp. ' Piers Plowman,' A. i., 109, ' Lucifer with legiouns lerede hit in heuene.'

1 1 22. >et kesten ensens: probably suggested by Rev. viii. 3.

1 126. Veitues; one of the orders of the angels (for a list see 'Ypotis,' 1. 90, Horstmann's ' Altenglische Legenden, Neue Folge,' where the ' virtues ' are seventh in order) ; cp. I Peter iii. 22, 'subjectis sibi angelis et potestatibus et virtutibus,' and Rom. viii. 38.

1129-30. 'Delight and much marvel were in my mind;' not, as O. thinks that the lines mean, ' Glad desire entered my heart to describe the Lamb with many a marvel.'

1 135. wyse: if this is from O.E. wisian, it should mean ' point out, show,' and may possibly be used here intransitively, i.e. 'show itself, appear.' This verb, in contradistinction to O.E. wissian, occurs only once in the poems, ' Cleanness,' 453-4, ' wysed Jj^route a message,' z. e. he directed thereout a messenger ; with reference to the raven sent by Noah. Strictly, therefore, the sense should be ' directed.' Could it here signify ' directed, i. e. pointed, towards the heart ' ?

1 141. The Lombe delyt non lyste to wene: MS. lyste. ' Lombe ' is evidently gen. sg. without inflection. The sense of the line seems to be : ' to no one was there the desire to question the delight of the Lamb (for it was obvious).' ' Lyste ' is used here in rather a rare sense, ' to no one came the inclination.' ' Wene ' is 'to think out ' ; cp. ' but wene,' without doubt, doubtless.

1 146. Cp. Rev. ii. 10, 'Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life,' James i. 12, etc.

1149-50. Cp. Ps. xlv. 14, 15, ' The virgins her companions that follow her shall be brought unto thee. With gladness and rejoicing shall they be brought ; they shall enter into the King's palace.'

1 1 54. Cp. 224; also 'hys madding mynd,' Spenser, 'Shepherd's Calendar,' April, 1. 25.

1 1 58. To £eoh me bur: 'to' in this line and elsewhere indicates the gerundial infinitive; and I am strongly inclined to hold that my former suggestion in respect of ' to feche me bur ' is correct, the phrase meaning ' to take the preliminary spurt' ; cp. E.D.D., 'to take birr,' a leap taken after a quick run ; Cotgrave, ' II recule pour mieux sauter, he goes back to take bur, or to leap the better.' Possibly the poet wrote 'my bur/ instead of 'me bur.'

take me halte ; this I take to be parallel in sense to the previous words, and interpret it to mean, ' in taking off.' It may have been used technically, as the modern phrase 'to take off,' in the sense of 'to start in leaping.'

The poet is here using two technical terms with reference to the initial movements before plunging, and he goes on to say that if no one prevented the ' bur ' and the ' take-off,' he would start on his swim, though he perished in the course. The force^of the line has hitherto, in my view, been altogether missed.

1 160. to swymme : again the gerundial infinitive, i. e. in swimming, 'and nought (methought) should keep me from the start, though I perished there in swimming the rest,' z. e. though he perished before reaching the other bank.

O. in his translation takes ' to swymme ' as dependent on ' I f'ojt,' and renders the lines as follows : ' if no one could prevent my plunging in the stream, I hoped to swim the interval in safety, though I should die for it at last.'

1165. flonc: cp. Jjynk, 587.

1166. hylle: see Note on 1205.

1 175- and sykyng : cp. ' Gawain,' 753, ' & perfore sykyng ; ' ' Destr. Troy,' 866, ' Thus sykyng ho said'; ' and also ' Gawain,' 1796, 'Sykande ho sweje dou«,' and 'Cleanness,' 715, 'Al sykande he sayde.' Evidently the verbal noun had in the case of this word very early taken the place of the present participle, and coexisted with the older pr. part, forms, as in the present case. So, too, in such a Southern text as 'William of Palerne' we have 'sikande, sikende, sikinde, siking,' all present participles.

1 1 77. out-fleme: 'an outcast,' not 'banished,' as M. glosses; O.E. fliema, flema, a fugitive. 'Ut-flema' does not occur ; but we have ' ut-laga,' an outlaw, borrowed from Scand. ; cp. O.N. ut-lagi. Side by side with 'ut-laga' there was 'ut-laj, ut-lah,' outlawed, the adj. being used as a sb., so that ' outlaw ' frequently has the sense of ' outlawed.' Hence the similar usage in respect of the synonym 'out-fleme,' as in the present passage, without 'an.'

1 1 80. in swone: the original form of the phrase would appear to have been ' a-swoune,' which became ' on swoune,' and then ' in swoune.' ' Swone,' rhyming with ' regioun,' etc. = ' swoune ' ; cp. rhymes in stanza Lxxxi.

1 181. to: not marking the infinitive, but adverbial, i.e. 'towards, to'; cp. 'Cleanness,' 155 1, 'He bede his burnes bo J to'; unless 'to-reme' is a compound, the prefix implying intensity.

1 1 86. garlande gay: the reference must be to the crown, 11. 205-8. The crown has ' flurted flowrej ' ; but it is doubtful whether the flowers are necessarily implied in the word ' garlande ' here. ' Garlande ' may mean the whole crown or diadem ; cp. Matthew Paris (Du Cange), ' Rex veste deaurata, et coronula aurea, quae vulgariter garlanda

dicitur, redimitus,' and this use of the word is not rare in the fourteenth century. The word ' garlande ' seems to be ultimately due to M.H.G. wiere, gold wire.

It is noteworthy that the thirteenth-century alliterative homily, 'Hali Meidenhad/ has the following statement in respect of the crowns worn in heaven by maidens. Over and above the crowns common to all the blest, they have ' a gerlaundesche schinende schenre pen pe sunne, Auriole ihate« o latines ledene ; pe flurs pat beoS idrahe J?ron, ne pe jimstanes ]?rin to tellen of hare euene ne is na mo«nes speche.' The auriole, equivalent to 'coronula,' was 'a celestial crown, worn by a martyr, virgin or doctor, as victor over the world, the flesh or the devil.' The aureola of the virgins was white, of the martyrs red, of the doctors green. Hence the aureole of Pearl is of clear white pearl, 1. 207.

1 193. As helde: 'as likely as possible.' This difficult phrase has not hitherto been explained, but I now adduce the Lanes, dialect 'belt' (see E.D.D.), in the sense of 'likely, easily.' The word is not recorded in M.E., though 'helder' (in the sense of 'rather') is of course common. It is not necessary to add, as O. does, ' r' to 'helde' ; indeed he misunderstands the force of the words, translating, 'had I been rather drawn to God's presence than forced my way.' This line goes with the apodosis, and not with the protasis. ' Helt ' would represent an older comparative form of the adverb; cp. Goth, haldis. In O.N. the adv. is 'heldr,' as opposed to the adj. 'heldri.' It seems likely, therefore, that 'held' represents a lost O.E. comparative adverb, the M.E. 'helder' being of Scand. origin. The syllabic e in ' helde ' was evidently added to intensify the adverbial force of ' held.' The adverbial comparative would be parallel to such adverbial comparatives as ' leng ' (= longer).

present ; cp. 389.

1201. sete sa3te: this is clearly the O.N. phrase 'setja satt ' ; cp. ' setja friS, griS,' to establish peace. The Scandinavian origin of the phrase is strikingly attested by

the spelling *sete,' as opposed to the ordinary 'sette,' the former representing O.N. setja, the latter O.E. settan. There is, I think, a neglected law of M.E. phonology that words of Scandinavian origin showing a short e in the root followed by a single consonant with -ja suffix, have their radical lengthened ; hence 'sete,' against M.E. 'sette' from O.E. settan. Similarly in 11. 320, 981, we have 'keue' from O.N. kefja, where the rhyme shows the length. O. unnecessarily emends to ' sete [hym] sajte,' deriving ' sete ' from O.E. settan.

1204. Perhaps the most striking M.E. poem recalling Pearl, being in the same metre and with much the same feeling, is the fine poem 'God's Complaint,' with the refrain ' Whi art ]7ou to ]?i freend vnkinde ' (ed. Furnivall, ' Political, Religious and Love Poems,' E.E.T.S. Original Series, 15).

1205. hyul: I am now convinced that this is the reading of the MS., and that the scribe did not, as has been generally maintained, write ' hyiil ' with a dot on the first i. O. says, "MS. clearly 'hyiil,'" but the same stanza, in the case of 'Krystyin' and 'enclyin,' shows how the scribe, when he wished to mark an i, used a stroke resembling an acute accent, while the small dot was often used over a y, and it is this dot which is used in the present word, though written rather over the first stroke of the u than the_j/. For 'hyul,' cp. 'huyle,' 41, and see Note.

121 1. ge£: the more ordinary form of the pres. subj. would be 'geue' ; but ^%&V is probably correct ; cp. 'J'ryf,' 851. Anyhow, it is not a probable error for 'gyue,' as O. states, although that form occurs in 1. 707.

homly hyne : ' homly ' = ' intimate, friendly.' The word does not occur in O.E. ; the M.E. 'homly' was probably influenced by Scand. ' heimuligr,' as used in such phrases as 'bans heimuligt f61k,' 'his household folk'; 'heimuligr clerkr,' 'a private clerk.' In Scottish the word is still common in this sense. For 'hyne,' see Note on 505.

1212. The last line of the poem catches up, as it were, the first, and indeed emphasises its deeper suggestion.

Boccaccio's Olympia

Editor's Note on the Text

Olympia, the Latin text with an English
rendering, edited by me, was printed by
the Florence Press (Chatto & Windus) and
published in 1913 to commemorate the six
hundredth anniversary of Boccaccio's birth.
The issue was limited to 550 copies. The
present text and translation represent a revision
of the 1913 edition.

My interest in Boccaccio's Olympia dates
from 1904, when my dear friend the late
Professor W. H . Schofield, of Harvard, reprinted
from the Publications of the Modern Language
Association of America, xix. I, an article on
"The Nature and Fabric of the Pearl," in
which he attempted to disprove the obvious
autobiographical interpretation of the poem,
and to maintain that its elegiac setting was
a mere literary device for dealing with certain
theological problems.

An Appendix was added embodying supplementary information concerning the source
of the poem, in which Dr. Schofield stated
that after his article had been printed his
attention was directed by Dr. E. K. Rand,
of Harvard, to Boccaccio's Eclogue. He
proceeded to demonstrate the dependence
of the English poem upon the Latin as
its direct source, and somewhat strangely,
instead of being induced by " the new fact "
to modify his former contention, asserted
that the undoubted elegiac reality of the
alleged original actually confirmed his views
as to the non-autobiographical character of
" The Pearl." After comparing the two
poems, he was, however, forced to admit that,
in saying that the Eclogue was its source,
he did not mean more than that it was the
" starting-point of the author's conception."
I do not propose on the present occasion to
traverse the arguments. I was none the less
grateful to Dr. Schofield, although after long
study of the two poems I came to the conclusion that there was no definite evidence
of any indebtedness on the part of the author
of " Pearl " to Boccaccio's poem, and that
such parallels as might be discovered in the two
poems might be due to the poets' common
knowledge, ideas, and belief. Moreover, in one
striking instance the alleged similarity does not
exist. " In both cases," it was pointed out,
" the poet, grieving for a dead child, falls
asleep on the ground in a leafy arbor ; " but

" ex molli caespite recubans " indicates a soft
pillow, and not the ground. With the
dangers of parallelism before me, I attempted
to consider the question independently ; for
which purpose I found it necessary, in the
first place, to prepare an adequate text of the
Eclogue, and further, in order to understand
it aright, to render it into English.

The poem was included in collections of
Latin Eclogues printed in Florence, 1504,
and in Basle, 1546 ; and again in " Carmina
Illustrium Poetarum Italorum," Florence,
1719. All these texts are unsatisfactory,
though the last is perhaps the best of them.
To Dr. Oscar Hecker belongs the high distinction of having discovered what he has
proved to be Boccaccio's autograph manuscript
of the Eclogues, including " Olympia." His
discovery is set forth in a remarkable volume,
" Boccaccio-Funde," 1901 , where among other
treasures he prints from the precious volume
in the Bibliotheca Riccardiana at Florence
the text of " Olympia," letter for letter, in
the poet's own orthography, minutely reproducing the original. With the help of
this text, I have been able to correct some
bad errors in the 1719 text, which I have
taken as the basis of the present edition, The

spelling and punctuation have been normalised
in accordance with modern usage.

The extracts from Boccaccio's letters to
Petrarch and Martin da Signa -are from
Corrazzi's " Le Lettere edite e inedite di
Messer Giovanni Boccaccio," with some slight
modifications.

In addition to Dr. Hecker's work, the
following investigations should be noted :
Hortis, Studij sulle opere latine del Boccaccio, 1879; Zumbini, Le Ecloghe del
Boccaccio, Giornale storico della lett. ital.
vii ; Dobelli, II culto del Boccaccio per
Dante, Giornale Dantesco, An. v, fasc. v, vi,
vii ; Enrico Carrara, Un oltretomba Bucolico,
1899 — the last an interesting effort to explain
allusions, proper names, and sources, with
special reference to Dante. So far as diction
is concerned, the poet's chief debt, directly
and indirectly, is to Virgil. Whatever occasional defects may be found in the Latinity
of the poem are amply compensated by the
all-pervading grace of sentiment and feeling.

The date of "Olympia" is about 1361,
some two or three years after the child's
death at the age of five and a half.

It is not known who is to be understood
by Fusca, probably the child's mother. Asylas

is evidently a reference to Boccaccio's father.
By Mopsus Homer may perhaps be understood ; Virgil by Tityrus ; Dante by Minciades, though the name primarily would suggest
Virgil. Codrus, for Christ, in Olympia's
Hymn, is explained by the Athenian king's
self-sacrifice for his country's sake. Ischiros
is the Greek 'lo-xwpds, strong, mighty. Similarly, the form Parthenos, with the second
vowel as lengthened, should be noted. Arcesilas is probably used in its etymological sense
of " Chieftain." A gloss in the margin of the
MS. gives " Lycos," that is. Wolf, the name
of the dog, as from the Greek and equivalent
to " albus." Therapon, the source of which the
poet forgot, is evidently dipwKwv, an attendant.
" De Libano, sponsa, veni," the song Asylas
invites Olympia to sing with him, from the
fourth chapter of the Song of Songs :

" Tola pulchra es, amica mea, et macula non

est in te.
Veni de Libano, sponsa mea, veni de Libano,

veni.
Coronaberis de capite Araana, de vertice

Sanir et Hermon," etc.,

was perhaps suggested by Dante, Purgatorio
xxx, ii ;

" ed un di loro, quasi da del messo,
' Veni, sponsa, de Libano ' cantando
Grido tre volte, e tutte gli altri appresso."

The words, as the burden of a religious lovesong, occur frequently in mediaeval literature.
Their use in " Pearl " is very striking, though
the situation is not parallel. In sentiment the
two poems are indeed linked together ; and
by way of illustrating this identity of spirit,
however different the form, stanza lxiv may
fittingly be noted.

A like sorrow befell two poets, and each
found solace in song. The one — a pioneer
of the Renaissance — characteristically, under
the influence of his great Italian Master,
harmonised Virgilian form with Christian
belief. The other — a didactic English poet,
far from the new literary currents — bethought
him of the Pearl of the Gospel, and found his
inspiration in the visionary scenes of the New
Jerusalem, coloured by mediaeval allegory. In
his poem, " the river from the Throne " of
the Apocalypse met " the waters of the wells,"
devised by Sir Mirth for the Garden of the
Rose.

In accordance with theological fancy, in
each poem the transfigured child, grown in
wisdom, appears as matured also in age, "joined

in Eternal Spousal." No longer the children
they were, they teach with bold authority
lessons of resignation and the mystic properties
of Heaven — Pearl more particularly, who
in her argumentative skill recalls the figure
of Reason in the " Romaunt." Yet, at the
same time, to the dreamer Pearl is still " my
little queen," and, for all " her royal array,"
his treasure " small and sweetly slight." So,
too, Olympia's voice and image are those
of Violante — "virguncula mea." The child
angelic, matured in Heaven — " for spousal fit "
— is still the child for dreamer and poet. In
the Kingdom all are as children. And even
to Dante, in the hour of his imperilled loyalty
to her memory, Beatrice first appears " con
quelle vestimenta sanguigne, colle quali apparve
prima agli occhi miei, e pareami giovane in
simile etade a quella, in che prima la vidi."

Dedicatory Sonnet

Gollancz's own sonnet, linking Boccaccio's Olympia to Pearl.

Olympian ! From thy laurel that ne'er fades
A tender leaf athwart our pathway falls,
And, fragrant with sweet violet, recalls
The dearest blossom in thy love-lit glades.

Far from thy Roses, with desire imbrued.
Far from thy Garden, where with wanton. lays
Plague-haunted dames and gallants sped their

days,
A floweret all too frail thy tears bedew'd.

Not Fiammetta, but thy angel-child
Led thee foot-sore the Hill-top to ascend,
The high Olympus of the undefiled.

There Beatrice on Violante smiled.
And told of fair Eletta, thy child-friend.
And played with Pleasant Pearl, so wise and
mild.

I.G.

Boccaccio's Letters

Two extracts from Boccaccio's letters — to Petrarch, describing a visit to Petrarch's daughter that recalled his own lost child, and to Fra Martino da Signa, explaining the allegorical names of the Eclogue and identifying Olympia as his daughter Violante. Latin text (Gollancz's edition, after the 1719 Carmina Illustrium Poetarum Italorum text, corrected against Hecker's transcript of Boccaccio's autograph) followed by Gollancz's English rendering.

Latin

JOHANNIS BOCCACCI DE CERTALDO AD FRANCISCUM PETRARCHAM LAUREATUM FAMILIARIS EPISTOLA.

Interlocuti sumus in hortulo tuo, assistentibus
ex amicis nonnullis, consedimus ; ibi explicatiori placidoque sermone, domum, libros et
tua omnia obtulit, et quantum in ea fuit,
matronali semper gravitate servata, sumpsissem.
Inde has inter oblationes et ecce modestiori
passu quam deceret statem Electa tua dilecta
mea, et antequam me nosceret ridens aspexit.
Quam ego non laetus tantum sed avidus ulnis
suscepi. Primo intuitu virgunculam olim meam
suspicatus. Quid dicam ? Si mihi non credis,
Gulielmo Ravennati medico, et Donato nostro
qui novere credito. Eadem, quae mea fuit,
Electae tuae facies est, idem risus, eademque
oculorum laetitia, gestus incessusque et eadem

totius corpusculi habitudo, quamquam grandiuscula mea, eoque aetate esset provectior,
quintum quippe jam annum attigerat et dimidium, dum ultimo illam vidi. Insuper si idem
idioma fuisset, verba eadem erant atque simplicitas. Quid mula ! In nihilo differentes
esse cognovi, nisi quia aurea caesaries tuae est,
meae inter nigram rufamque fuit, Heu mihi !
quotiens dum hanc persaepe amplector, et suis
delector collocutionibus, memoria subtractae
mihi puellulae lacrimas ex oculis usque deduxit,
quas demum in suspirium versas emisi, advertente nemine.

Epistola ad Fratrem Martinum de Signa.

Quarta decima Ecloga Olympia dicitur : Olympos graece, quod splendidum seu lucidum latine
sonat, et inde caelum ; et ideo huic eclogae
attributum est, quoniam in ea plurimum de
qualitate caelestis regionis habeatur sermo.
Collocutores quattuor sunt : Silvius, Camalus,
Therapon, et Olympia. Pro Silvio me ipsum
intellego, quem sic nuncupo eo quod in sylva
quadam hujus eclogae primam cogitationem
habuerim. Camalos graece, latine sonat hebes
vel torpens, eo quod in eo demonstrentur mores

2s6 EPISTOLA AD MARTINUM DE SIGNA

torpentis servi. Therapon, hujus significatum
non pono, quia non memini, nisi iterum revisam librum, ex quo de caeteris sumpsi, et ideo
ignoscas. Scis hominis memoriam labilem esse
et potissime senum. Pro Olympia intellego
parvulam filiam meam olim mortuam ea in
aetate in qua morientes caelestes effici cives
credimus : et ideo ex Violante dum viveret,
mortuam caelestem, id est Olympiam, voco.

Incipit Egloga Quarta Decima cui titulus
EST Olympia, Collocutores autem sunt
SiLvius, Camalus, Therapon, et Olympia.

English

From Boccaccio's Letter to Petrarch,

DESCRIBING His Visit TO Francesca, Petrarch's Daughter, at Venice, in the
Year mccclxvii, and telling of Eletta,
Francesca's Little Daughter.

We sat chatting in your garden, and some of
your friends who were there joined in the talk.
Francesca most graciously pressed me to make
myself at home, and proffered me your books
and all your belongings — all she had I was to
consider mine ; but not for a moment did she
forget the modest demeanour of the perfect
wife. She was welcoming me, when, lo, there
before me was your dear little Eletta, my little
friend ! How gracefully she came along !
One could not have expected such grace in so
young a child. Before she could know who
I was, she smiled at me so sweetly. What joy
was mine when I saw her ! What a hunger
seized my heart as I held her in my arms !
At first I thought it was my own girlie — the
little maid once mine. Need I say more ?
You'll hardly believe me. But ask Doctor
William of Ravenna and our friend Donatus.
They know. Your little Eletta is the very
image of my lost one. She has the same laugh,
the same joyous eyes, the same bearing and

gait ; she holds her dear little body just the
same way. My girlie was perhaps slightly
taller, but then she was older ; she was five
and a half when I saw her last. Had their
dialect been the same, they would have spoken
the same words — the same simple artless words.
I can see no difference, except that Eletta's hair
is golden, while my girlie's was chestnut brown.
Ah me ! how often, while I fondled your little
one, and listened to her sweet prattle, did the
memory of the little daughter reft from me
bring tears to my eyes ! How often, when no
one observed, did I sigh away my tears !

From a Letter to Martin da Signa.

This fourteenth Eclogue is called Olympia,
from the Greek Olympos, signifying in Latin
splendidus or lucidus, and so Heaven. Hence
the name Olympia is given to this Eclogue,
since much is told herein concerning the
heavenly realm. The speakers are four in
number : Silvius, Camalus, Therapon, and
Olympia. By Silvius I mean myself, and so
I name myself here, because the first thought
of this Eclogue came to me in a wood. Camalus is from a Greek word signifying hebes or
torpens, that is, dull or sluggish — a type of the

lazy servant. Of Therapon I am not giving
you the meaning ; indeed I cannot recall it
unless I refer to the book whence I took the
rest. So please pardon me. You know how
slippery is memory, and especially the memory
of old men. By Olympia I mean my little
daughter, who died at that age at which, as we
believe, those who die become the citizens of
heaven. And so for Violante, as she was named
when living, I call her now Olympia — the
angelic.

Here begins Boccaccio's Fourteenth Eclogue

ENTITLED OlYMPIA, WHEREIN THE SPEAKERS

ARE Silvius, Camalus, Therapon, and
Olympia.

The Fourteenth Eclogue: Olympia

Boccaccio's Eclogue XIV, composed about 1361, some two or three years after the death of his daughter Violante at five and a half. The speakers are Silvius (Boccaccio himself), the shepherd-boys Camalus and Therapon, and Olympia — the transfigured child, as Violante is named in heaven. Latin text followed by Gollancz's English verse rendering.

Latin

ECLOGA DECIMAQUARTA

SiLvius, Camalus, Therapon, Olympia.

Silv. Sentio, ni fallor, pueri, pia numina ruris
Laetari, et cantu volucrum nemus omne repleri.
Itque reditque Lycos blando cum murmure ;

quid nam
Viderit ignoro ; cauda testatur amicum.
Ite igitur, jam clara dies diffunditur umbris 5
Praecantata diu ; quid sit perquirite, quidve
Viderit inde Lycos noster, compertaque ferte.
Cam. Dum nequit in somnum miserum componere pectus,
Imperat ex molli recubans heu cespite moestus
Silvius, et noctis pavidas lustrare tenebras 10
Vult pueros longo fessos in luce labore.

Silv. Camale, dum primos terris praestabit
Iberus
Nocturnos ignes, currus dum Delia fratris
Ducet ad occasum, dura sternet cerva leones, 1 4
Obsequium praestabit hero sine murmure servus.
258

O Therapon, stabuli tu solve repagula nostri,
Pone metum, videas catulus quid viderit,
ore

Ther. Festina, fac, surge senex ! Jam corripit

ignis
Jam veteres quercus, et noctem lumine vincit ;
Uritur omne nemus, fervens jam flamma penates
Lambit, et occursu lucis perterritus intra 21
Festinus redii. Lambit jam flamma penates !
Silv. Pastorum venerande Deus, Pan, deprecor

adsis !
Et vos, o pueri, flammis occurrite lymphis.
Siste parum, Therapon, paulum consiste. Quid

istud ? 25

Quid video \ sanusne satis sum \ dormio forsan.
Non facio ! Lux ista quidem, non flamma vel

ignis.
Nonne vides laetas frondes corylosque virentes
Luminis in medio, validas ac undique fagos
Intactas ? Immo, nee nos malus ardor adurit. 30
Ther. Si spectes coelo testantur sidera noctem,
In silvis lux alma diem. Quid grande paratur ?
Silv. Sic natura vices variat, noctemque

diemque
Explicuit mixtos terris ; nee lumina Phcebae

Nee Solis radios cerno. Non sentis odores 35
Insolitos silvis, nemus hoc si forte Sabxutn
Fecisset natura parens ? Quos inde recentes
Nox peperit flores ? Quos insuper audio cantus ?
Haec superos ambire locos et pascua signant. —

[OLYMPIA]

Olym. Salve dulce decus nostrum, pater optime,
salve ! 40

Ne timeas, sum nata tibi. Quid lumina flectis ?
S'tlv. Nescio num vigilem, fateor, seu somnia
cernam,
Nam coram genitse voces et dulcis imago
Stant equidem ; timeo falli, quia saepe per

umbras
Illusere dei stolidos ; nos claustra petamus ! 45
Olym. Silvi, quid dubitas ? an credis, Olympia patrem
Ludat, et in lucem sese sine numine divum
Praebeat ? Hue veni lacrimas demptura dolentes.
Slh. Agnosco, nee fallit amor, nee somnia
fallunt.
O nimium dileeta mihi, spes unica patris, 50

Quis te, nata, deus tenuit ? Te Fusca ferebat,

Chalcidicos colles, et pascua lata Vesevi
Dum petii, raptam nobis, Cybelisque sacrato
Absconsam gremio, nee post haec posse videri.
Quod credens, moerensque miser, riiea virgo, per

altos 5 5

Te monies, umbrasque graves, saltusque remotos
Ingemui flevique diu, multumque vocavi.
Sed tu, si mereor, resera quibus, obsecro, lustris
Te tenuit tarn longa dies ? Die munere cujus
Intertexta auro vestis tibi Candida flavo ? 60
Quas tibi lux oculis olim non visa refulget ?
Qui coniites ? Mirum, quam grandis faeta

diebus
In paueis ! Matura viro mihi, nata, videris.
Olym. Exuvias quas ipse mihi, venerande,

dedisti,
Ingenti gremio servat Berecynthia mater. 65
Has vestes formamque dedit, faciemque coruscam
Parthenos, secumque fui. Sed respiee, numquid
Videris hos usquam comites ; vidisse juvabit !
Silv. Non memini vidisse quidem, nee pulehrior, inquam, 69

His Nareissus erat, non talis denique Daphnis,
Qui Dryadum spes Iseta fuit, non puleher Alexis !
Olym. Non Mariura Julumque tuos dulcesque

sorores
Noseis, et egregios vultus ? Tua pulchra propago est !

Si/v. Abstulit effigies notas lanugine malas 74
Umbratas vidisse. Meis jam jungite dextras,
Amplezusque meos ac oscula'laeta venite
Ut praestem, satiemque animam ! Quas, Pan,

tibi laudes,
Quas, Silvane, canam f Pueri, nudate palaestras,
Et ludos agitote patrum. Stent munera fagis
Victorum suspensa sacris, paterasque parate 80
Spumantes vino ; Ixtum cantate Lyaeum,
Et sertis ornate lares ; altaria surgant
Caespite gramineo ; Triviae mactate bidentem
Candidulam, Noctique pise sic csedite fulvam. 84
Fer calamos pueris, Therapon, fer serta puellis.
Ofym. Sunt, Silvi, calami, sunt serta decentia
nobis ;
Et si tanta tibi cura est deducere festum,
Ignotos silvis modulos cantabimus istis.

Silt/. Immo, silva silet, tacitus nunc defluit
Arnus,
Et silet omnis ager, pueri, vos atque silete. 90

0/ym. Fwimus txternum meritis et numine
Codti,

z68 ECLOGA t)ECIMAQUARTA.

Aurea qui nuper celso demissus Olympo
Parthenu in gremium, revocavit saecula terris ;
Turpia pastorum passus convitia, cedro
Affixus, letho concessit sponte triumphum. 95
Vivimus teternum mentis et numitie Codr't.
Sic priscas sordes, morbos, scabiemque vetustam
Infecti pecoris prseclaro sanguine lavit.
Hincque petens valles Plutarchi sEepta refrinxit,
In solem letrahens pecudes, armentaque patrum :
Fivimus aternum mentis et numine Codri. i o i
Morte hinc prostrata, carapos reseravit odoros
Elysii, sacrumque gregem deduxit in hortos
Mellifluos, victor lauro quercuque refulgens,
Optandasque dedit nobis per ssecula sedes: 105
Vivimus aternum mentis et numine Codri.
Exuvias in fine sibi pecus omne resumet ;
Ipse, iteruni veniens, capros distinguet ab agnis,
Hosque feris linquet, componet sedibus ilias
Perpetuis coeloque novo post tempora claudet.
Vivimus eeternum mentis et numine Codri. 1 1 1

Silv. Sentis, quam stulti Latios cantare putamus
Pastores calamis perdentes tempora vocum ?
Msenalios vidi juvenes per dorsa Lycaei,

Threicium et vatem solitum deducere cautes
Carmine, nee quemquam possum concedere tanti,
Ut similem natis faciam. Quae guttura ? quae

vox ? 117

Quis concentus erat i stipulis quis denique flatus ?
Non equidem nemoris custos regina canori
Calliopes, non ipse Deus, qui praesidet antro
Gorgoneo, aequiparet ! Flexere cacumina

quercus, I z i

Et tenues nymphae tacitos petiere regressus
In lucem ; mansere lupi, catulique tacentes.
Praeterea, o juvenes, sensistis carminis hujus
Coelestes sensus ? Numquam mlhi Tityrus olim
Cantavit similes, senior nee Mopsus apricis 126
Parrhasius silvis. Sanctum et memorabile totum

est.
Virginibus nivese dentur, mea cura, columbae ;
Ast pueris fortes dederat quos Ischiros arcus.
0/ym. Sint tua, nil fertur quod sit mortale

per oras
Quas dites colimus ; renuunt seterna caducum !
Si/p. Quas oras, mea nata, refers ? Quas,

deprecor, oras ? 132

Nos omnes teget ilia domus, somnosque quietos

Herba dabft viridis, casspesque sub ilice mensam.
Vitreus is large praestabit pocula rivus, 135

Castaneas mites, et poma recentia nobis
Rustica silva feret, teneros grex fertilis hxdos,
Lacque simul pressum. Quas ergo exquiritis

oras ?
Olym. Non tibi, care pater, dixi, Berecynthia

mater
Exuvias gremio servat, quas ipse dedisti? 140
Non sum quae fueram dum tecum parvula vixi ;
Nam numero sum juncta deum ; me pulcher

Olympus
Expectat, comitesque meos. Stat vertere gressus
In patriam. Tu vive, pater dulcissime, felix !
Silv. Heu ! moriar lacrimans, miserum si nata

relinquis. 14 j

Olym. Pone, precor, luctus; credisne refringere

fatum
Nunc lacrimis ? Omnes silvis quotcumque creati
Nascimur in mortem ; feci quod tu quoque, Silvi,
Post facies. Noli, quxso, lacerare deorum
Invidia aeternos annos. Tibi crede quietem 1 50
Post funus, laudesque pias mi reddito coelo.
Quod moriens fugi mortem, nemorumque labores.
Separor ad tempus, post haec me quippe videbis ;

Perpetuosque trahes mecum feliciter annos.

Si/c. In lacrimis oculos fundam, tristemque

senectam ! 1 5 5

Heu, quibus in silvis post anxia fata requiram

Te profugam, ex nostris bis raptam viribus ulnis ?

0/ym. Elysium repeto, quod tu scansurus es

olim.
Si/v. Elysium, memini, quondam cantare
solebat
Minciades stipula, qua nemodoctiorusquam. l6o
Estne, quod ille canit, vestrum ? Didicisse
juvabit.
Olym. Senserat ille quidem vi mentis grandia
qusedam,
Ac in parte loci faciem, sed pauca canebat.
Si videas, quam multa tenet,quam pulchra piorum
Elysium sedesque deum gratissima nostrum. 165
Silv. Quos tenet iste locus montes ? Quibus
insitus oris ?
Quae non Minciades vidit, seu sponte reliquit,
Da nobis. Audire fuit perssepe laborum
Utile solamen ; veniet mens forte videndi. 1 69
Olym. Est in secessu pecori mons invius aegro,
Lumine perpetuo clarus, quo primus ab imis
Insurgit terris Phoebus, cui vertice summo
Silva sedet palmas toUens ad sidera celsas,
Et laetas pariter lauros, cedrosque perennes,

Palladis ac oleas optatae pacis arnicas. 1 7 5

Quis queat hinc varios flores, quis posset odores
Quos lenis fert aura loco, quis dicere rivos
Argento similes, mira scaturigine circum
Omnia rorantes, lepido cum murmure flexus
Arbustis mixtos nunc hinc nunc inde trahentes ?
Hesperidum potiora locus fert aurea poma. 181
Sunt auro volucres pictas, sunt cornlbus aureis
Capreoli et mites damae, sunt insuper agax
Velleribus niveis, claro rutilantibus auro ;
Suntque boves, taurique simul, pinguesque

juvencae 1 8 5

Insignes omnes auro, mitesque leones,
Crinibus et mites gryphes radiantibus auro :
Aureus est nobis Sol, ac argentea luna ;
Et majora quidem quam vobis sidera fulgent.
Ver ibi perpetuum, nulHs ofFenditur austris, 1 90
Laetaque teraperies loca possidet, exulat inde
Terrestris nebula et nox et discordia rerum ;
Mors ibi nulla manet gregibus, non xgra senectus,
Atque graves absunt curae maciesque dolorque.
Sponte sua veniunt cunctis optata. Quid ultra ?

Dulcisono resonat cantu mitissimus aer. 196
Silv. Mira refers, sanctamque puto sedemque

deorum
Quam memoras silvam. Sad quisnam praesidet

illi?
Et comites, mea nata, refer, ritusque locorutn.
Olym. Hac in gramineo summo sedet aggere

grandis zoo

Arcesilas, servatque greges, et temperat orbes,
Cujus eriim si forte velis describere vultus,
Incassum fades ; nequeunt comprendere

mentes.
Est alacer, pulcherque nimis, totusque serenus,
Hujus et in gremio jacet agnus candidus, ex quo
Silvicolis gratus cibus est, et vescimur illo. 206
Inde salus venit nobis, et vita renatis.
Ex his ambobus pariter sic evolat ignis,
Ut mirum credas ; hoc lumen ad omnia confert,
Solatur mcestos, et mentis lumina purgat, 2 1 o
Consilium miseris praestat, viresque cadentum
Instaurat, dulcesque animis infundit amores.
Stat Satyrfim longaeva cohors, hinc undique

supplex
Omnis cana quidem, roseis ornata coronis,
• Et cytharis agni laudes et carmine cantat. 2 1 5
Purpureus post ordo virum venerabilis, inquam,
Et viridi cunctis cinguntur tempera lauro.
Hi cecinere Deum stipulis per compita verum.

Et forti saevos anirao vicere labores.
Agmen adest niveum post hos, cui lilia frontes
Circumdant, huic juncta cohors tua pulchra manemus 221

Natorum. Crocei sequitur post ordo coloris
Inclitus ; et magno fulgens splendore, sonora
Voce deum laudes cantat, regique ministrat.
Quos inter placido vultu cantabat Asylas, 225
Dum silvis assumpta prius sum monte levatis.
Sill/. Ergo, precor, noster montem conscendit

Asyl;

asr

Emeruit, nam mitis erat, fideique vetustae
Praeclarum specimen. Faciat Deus ipse revisam !
Sed die ; tene, precor, novit, dum culmen

adires ? 230

Olym. Immo equidem applaudens injecit brachia collo ;
Et postquam amplexus Isetos ac oscula centum
Impressit fronti, multis comitantibus, inquit, —
' Venisti, o nostri soboles carissima Silvi ?
De Libano, nunc, sponsa veni sacrosque hymenaeos
Cantemus, raatremque viri mea neptis honora.'
Meque trahens,genibus flexis,quo pulchra sedebat
Parthenos posuit. Laeta haec suscepit in ulnis
Ancillam, dixitque pie : " Mea filia nostris
Ecce choris jungere piis, sponsique frueris 24O
^ternis thalamis, et semper Ol-jinpia coelo

Quae fueras teriis Violantes inclita fies."
Inque dedit vestes quas cernis. Si tibi narrem
Quos cantus tunc silva dedit, quos fistula versus
Pastoris lyrici, credes vix. Omne per antrum
Insonuit carmen mentis, tantusque refulsit 246
Ignis, ut exuri dixisses omnia flammis,
Et totum rosei cecidere per aera flores.

Silv. Qusc sit Parthenos nobis super adde, precamur.
0/ym. Alma Jovis genitrix haec est, et filia

nati, 250

Splendens aula deum, coeli decus, inscia noctis.
^thereum sidus, pastorum certa salutis
Spes, custosque gregum, requiesque optata laborum,
Hanc fauni nymphaeque colunt, banc grandis

Apollo
Laudibus extollit cythara, dominamque fatetur.
Quae residens solio patris veneranda vetusti, 256
A dextris geniti, tanto splendore refulget,
Ut facie silvam, montem, collesque polosque
Lxtificet Formosa nimis. Cui Candida circum
Agmina cygnorum volitant, matremque salutant, 260

Luminis aeterni sponsam, genitamque cientes.
St/v. Et vos quid, pueri, plaudunt dum gutture

cygni ?

Olym. Nos pueri legimus flores, factisque

corollis
Cingimus intonsos crines, laetisque choreis
Ambimus silvam, fontes, rivosque sonoros. 265
Et, mediis herbis ludentes, vocibus altis
Parthenu placidx meritos cantamus honores
Et geniti laudes pariter. Quis gaudia silvE
Enumerare queat ? Quis verbis pandere ? Nemo !
Induat ut volucres pennas, quibus alta volatu
Expetat et videat, opus est ; sunt cetera frustra.
Silv. Sunt optanda quidem, sed quis mihi

Dasdalus usquam 272

Qui tribuat pennas agiles, nectatque lacertis,
Ostendatque viam facilem, doceatque volatum ?

Olym. Pascefamemfratris,lactisdapocuIafessis,
Adsis detentis, et nudos contege, lapsos 276

Erige dum possis, pateatque forensibus antrum ;
Hasc aquilae volucres prsstabunt munera pennas
Atque, Deo monstrante viam, volitabis in altum.

Silv. Quo tendis ? quo, nata, fugis, miserumque parentem 280

Implicitum linquis kcrimis ? Heu cessit in auras
^thereas, traxitque simul, quos duxit, odores.
In mortem lacrimis ibo, ducamque senectam.
Vos pueri vitulos in pascua pellite ; surgit
Lucifer, et mediis jam sol emittitur umbris. 285

English

BOCCACCIO'S XlVth ECLOGUE

SiLvius, Camalus, Therapon, Olympia.

Silv. If I err not, the sylvan sprites rejoice.
List, boys ! with song of birds the grove is filled.
With gentle whine Wolf scampers to and fro ;
something he sees ; as for a friend he wags.
Bright day, long heralded, bestreaks the shades :
go, seek ye what it is, and what good Wolf
yonder has seen ; and quickly bring me word.
Cam. Our master, when alack ! he cannot
lull
his aching heart to sleep, from downy bed
gives orders, and poor we, toil-weary boys,
what recketh he ? — must forth and view dread
night.
Silv. In Western Ocean when the Dawn's
first streak
illumines Earth, when Delia westward leads
her brother's team, when hinds o'er lions vaunt,
a servant then perchance will do as bid.
2S9

But, Therapon, do thou unbar the door !
Fear not ; see thou, I pray, what Wolf has
seen. —

Ther. Haste, sir, arise, come forth ! Our
ancient oaks
are all by fire possessed ; light conquers night,
the grove is all a-glow ; fierce flames now lap
the very gods within. Awed by the sight,
1 hied me thence. The flames the gods now lap !

SUv. Pan, holy God of shepherds, be my help !
Go ye, my boys, with water face the flames.
Stay, Therapon ! stay here awhile. — What is't ?
What see I ? Am I sane ? Perchance I sleep :
Nay, yonder light, it is nor flame nor fire.
Seest not the branches fair, the hazels green
amid the glow, the beech-trees all about
inviolate ? Here burns no evil heat.

Ther. Look skyward ! spangled stars betoken
night.
Daylight the wood illumes. What wonder
next ?

Silv. So Nature marks her changes ; day and
night
commingled she displays. But here I see

nor Phoebe's beams nor Sd'a. Rare fragrances
feel'st not, as if Dame Nature here had made
a grove of Araby ? What flowers fresh
has Night brought forth ? What strains hear I

above ?
God-haunted spots and pastures these things

show —

OLYMPIA

Olym. Hail, chiefest glory, dearest father,
hail!
Fear not, I am thy daughter. Why this look ?
Silv. I' faith, I know not, do I wake or
dream !
My child's voice hear I, and her image sweet
stands here before me. Fool ! Too oft the gods
with shadows trick dull mortals. Let us home !
Olym. Silvius, doubt not ! think'st thou
Olympia
would mock her father, or herself reveal
against God's will ? To dry thy tears I come.
Silv. Now know I, 'tis no trick of love or
dream.
O too beloved ! thy father's dearest hope !
What god restrained thee, child ? Me Fusca
told

that, whilst I journey'd to Campania's hills,
Vesuvian pastures, thou from us wast reft,
and, hid in sacred soil, wast lost to sight.
Thinking 'twas so, in misery I mourn'd ;
I wailed thee,daughter mine,on mountain heights,
in woods and far-off glades, and call'd thee oft.
But me, if I be worthy, tell what haunts
hate held thee this long day. Who gave to thee
thy robe so white, entwined with yellow gold ?
What light shines in thine eyes, ne'er seen

before ?
Thy comrades — who ? Wondrous, how grown

art thou
in so brief time ! Thou seem'st for spousal fit.
Olym. The vestments, sire, which thou to me
didst give,
Great Mother Earth holds in her mighty lap.
These robes, this form, this glorious beauty,

heavenly bright
the Virgin gave ; with Her I was. But, lo,
my comrades hast ne'er seen before ? Rejoice !
Silv. I call them not to mind. More beauteous sure
was not Narcissus, nor was Daphnis such,
the wood-nymphs' darling, nor Alexis fair !
Olym. Know'st thou thy Marius not, thy
Julus, too,
and these sweet sisters mine ? Thy dear ones all !

Silv. The sight of cheeks down-shaded reft

from me
the faces that I know. Now join we hands ;
come ye to my embrace and kisses glad,
and let me sate my soul. Thy praises, Fan,
how shall I sing, and thine, Sylvanus ? Boys,
strip you for wrestling ; lead our ancient

games !
From sacred beeches hang the victor's meeds !
Let beakers foam ; and jocund Bacchus laud !
With garlands deck the gods ; with grassy turf
heap high their altars. To Diana slay
a heifer white ; to Night a tawny beast !
Reeds for the lads, good youth ; for lasses

wreaths !
Olym. Reeds, Silvius, have we here, and

goodly wreaths ;
and, if so please thee festal cheer to stir,
strains will we chant these woods have never

known.
Silv. Hushed is the wood ; Arno flows

silently ;
hush'd are the fields ; and hushed be ye, my

boys.

Olym. • " Endless our life by Codrus' grace
divine !

He, sent of late from high Olympus down

into the Maid, the Golden Age recalled ;

shepherds' vile scorn He dreed, on cedar hung ;

a triumph gave He Death, of His free will.

Endless our life by Codrus' grace divine !

So from the blemished sheep He washed old
taints,

old maladies and sores, with His bright blood ;

then sought He Pluto's dales, broke up his folds,

and brought to light the Father's flocks and herds.

Endless our life by Codrus^ grace divine !

Death slain, Elysium's fragrant fields He oped ;

to gardens honey-sweet His host He led,

Victor all- bright with laurel and with oak,

and gave us evermore the wish'd-for homes.

Endless our life by Codrus" grace divine.

At doomsday, when their slough all kinds resume.

He comes again, to part the lambs from goats, —

these to wild beasts, to Thrones eternal those :

anon a heaven new will compass them.

Endless our life by Codrus" grace divine."

Silv. What fools be we, to think that Latin
swains
can pipe and sing ! Their notes are out of time
Arcadian youths upon their mountain-slopes.

the Thracian sire who with his song drew rocks,
all have I known ; yet none so high I hold
as like unto these youths. What throats ! what

tones !
what harmony ! What music from their reeds !
The Sov'ran Guardian of the tuneful grove,
Calliope, nor e'en the God who rules
o'er Helicon, could vie ! The oaks bent low,
and tender wood-nymphs sought the silent

glades
unto the light ; yea, wolves and hounds stood

mute.
Tell me, ye youths, caught ye the heavenly

sense
of yon sweet strain ? Ne'er Tityrus sang so,
nor aged Mopsus in his sunny wood.
Sacred it is, to be remembered aye !
Unto the maids, from me, give snow-white

doves ;
unto the lads strong bows from Ischiros !

Olym. Hold thou them ! To the glorious

climes we haunt
nought mortal comes. Immortals shun things

frail.
Silv. What climes ? oh, daughter mine,

what climes, I pray ?
Yon roof us all will cover ; quiet sleep

green sward will give; a turf 'neath oak our

board ;
the crystal brook our fount of richest draughts ;
and our wild woodlands chestnuts ripe will bring,
and apples fresh ; our fruitful herd young kids
and cheese. What other climes, then, would

ye seek ?
Olym. Have I not told thee, father dear, that

Earth
the trappings keeps that thou to me didst

give ?
I am not what I was, the child thou knewest ;
now am I numbered with the god-like throng.
Me fair Olympus calls, my comrades eke ;
homeward we turn. Sweet father mine, farewell !
Silv. Leav'st thou me wretched thus, I weep

to death.
Olym. Away with grief ! Think' st thou to

burst thy fate
with tears ? As many as created be,
we all are born for death. I have but done
what thou shalt do. Rate not with spleen, I

pray,
the gods' eternal years. Trow peace is thine
hereafter ; render praise to Heav'n for me,
that, dying, I 'scaped death and toils below.
Awhile apart, sure thou wilt see me soon,

T

and lead with me in bliss unending years.
Silv. Mine eyes will waste with tears, mine
age will pine.
After life's woes in what wood shall I seek
thee, fleeing heiice, twice reft from these mine
arms ?
Olym. Elysium I seek, where thou wilt come.
Silv. Elysium ! The Mantuan bard, methinks,
sang once and piped thereof ; was none more

skilled.
Is thine the spot he sang ? Fain would I learn.
Olym. His mighty mind, indeed, some glories
grasped,
some beauties of the place ; he sang but few
of all the many joys Elysium holds, —
home of the blest, our Gods' most fair abode !
Silv. What mountains hath it? in what regions
set?
What he saw not, or what he left unsung,
tell me ! To hear was oft sweet balm for toil.
Perchance the soul will yearn those sights to see.
Olym. Remote, beyond the reach of sickly
sheep,
bright with perpetual light, a mountain rears ;
there Phoebus first, from Earth below, ascends;
on topmost peak a wood, with towering palms.
With festal laurels, cedars ever-green,

peace-loving olive-trees, to Pallas dear.

Who could describe the many flowers ? the

scents
the zephyrs waft ? and who the silvery

streams,
their wondrous waters sprinkling all about,
meandering here and there with murmur sweet,
and drawing in their course full many a bough ?
Such golden fruit th' Hesperides ne'er saw ;
gold-hued are birds there; and gold-horned

goats,
and gentle deer ; moreover, lambs are there
whose snowy fleeces gleam with brightest gold ;
and oxen, too, and bulls, and fatted cows,
resplendent all with gold ; yea, lions tame,
and griffins tanje, their manes with gold all

bright.
Golden our sun, and silvern is our moon ;
grander than yours the stars that shine on us.
'Tis ever Spring ; no southern gale strikes there ;
a joyous calm the place pervades. Earth's

mists,
and Night, all things that jar, are banished

thence.
Death comes not to the flocks, nor ailing Age ;
and far are grievous cares, and want, and grief.
Things wished for freely come to all. What

more ?

The air, so soft, with sweet-toned song resounds.
Si/v. Marvels thou tell'st ! Sure, sacred is
that wood,
the Gods' abode ! But who o'errules it, say ;
who dwell therein, and what the usages ?

Olym. High, on a grassy mound, in glory sits
Arcesilas, shepherding flocks and worlds.
But, verily, would'st thou His aspect know,
it were in vain ; the mind this cannot grasp.
All life is He, too fair, wholly serene ;
and in His bosom rests a Lamb, milk-white,
sweet sustenance for folk, whereby we live ;
thence comes our weal, and life to those re-born.
And from Them both alike there flames a fire,
wondrous to trow ! To all things spreads that

light :
the sad it comforts, purges the mind's eye,
counsels the wretched, strengthens those that fall,
with sweetest love informs the souls of men.
An aged band of Satyrs, suppliant,
their hoary locks with rosy chaplets crowned,
stand there ; with lute and song the Lamb

they praise.
And then the Purple Order, well revered,
their temples all engirt with laurel green.
At cross-roads these with pipes the true God

sang,

and, strong of soul, they conquered cruel

toils.
Then come the Snow-white Host ; lilies their

brows
enwreathe. To these is joined our little band,
thy children fair. The Saffron Order next,
illustrious, resplendent, with loud voice
sing praises of the Gods, and serve the King.
'Mong these Asylas sang ; how calm his look,
when first the mount received me from the woods !
Silv. Did my Asylas then ascend the mount ?
Worthy was he, gentle, of ancient faith
a noble type. God grant we meet again !
But knew he thee, when to the heights thou

camest ?
Olym. Gleeful, he threw his arms about my

neck ;
kissed me a hundred times, embrac'd me oft ;
and then, a mighty concourse with him, said :
" Hast come, my Silvius' beloved child ?
' Come hither, love,' and Hymen's holy lays
sing we ; and Manhood's Mother honour thou ! "
Then me he led, and down I knelt where sat
the Virgin beauteous. Joyful She clasped
Her maid, and kindly spake : " Now, daughter

mine,
enter Our blissful choirs ; thou shall enjoy
eternal Spousal, as Olympia

in Heaven known, who Violante wast."
The raiment that thou seest she gave me then.
Were I to tell the strains the woods then gave,
the tuneful Shepherds' notes, thou'dst scarce

believe.
The mountain's song resounded through the cave ;
and fire so flashed, that all things seemed a-glow;
and scattered from above fell roseate flowers.
Silv. Who is the Virgin ? Tell me now, I

pray.
Olym. Jove's gracious Mother She, His
Daughter eke,
the Gods' Queen-Mother,Heav'n's Gem,Night's

Bane,
Celestial Star, the Shepherds' certain hope,
their flocks' sure guard, their wish'd-for rest from

toil!
Fauns Her adore, and nymphs ; Apollo great
with lute exalts Her praise, and owns Her Queen.
She, worshipful, upon the Father's throne,
on right-hand of the Son, full brightly shines.
Her look the woods and mountains, hills and

poles,
makes glad. Too fair is She. About Her fly
white swan-like bands ; as Mother hail they Her,
as Spouse and Daughter of Eternal Light !
Silv. And what do ye, while thus the swans
acclaim ?

Olym. We youths cull flowers ; and, with the
wreaths we make,
our unshorn locks we crown. With dances glad
we circle woods and founts and sounding brooks ;
and, sporting 'mid the grasses, with loud voice
we chant due praises of the gentle Maid ;
and eke the Son we laud. The wood's delights
who can recount ? Who tell in words ? Not one !
First must he put on wings, as bird, by flight
to seek and see the heights ; else all is vain.

Silv. 'Twere to be wished I But who, as
Daedalus,
will give me agile wings, and bind them on,
show me the easy way, and teach me flight ?

Olym. Thy brother feed, give to the weary milk,
to prisoners alms '; the naked clothe, the fallen
raise, whilst thou canst ; take strangers to thy

home.
Such offices will give thee eagle's wings ;
and, God thy guide, thou wilt to Heaven fly. —

Silv. Whither, my daughter, whither fleest thou,
leaving thy father tearful ? — Ah, she passed
to upper air, and drew the scents she brought.
With tears my life I'll dree, and fare to death.
Boys, drive the calves afield ! Lo, Phosphor

gleams,
and Sol emerges now from misty shades.

Colophon

Edition. Sir Israel Gollancz, Pearl: An English Poem of the XIVth Century, Edited, with Modern Rendering, together with Boccaccio's Olympia ("Select Early English Poems," VIII), Humphrey Milford / Oxford University Press, London, 1921 — a revision of Gollancz's pioneering 1891 edition. Public domain in the United States (published 1921, before 1929).

Witness. HathiTrust page-image OCR of a Cornell University Library copy (record cu31924059407035), supplied as a 362-file per-page .txt ZIP: Pearl — Gollancz with Boccaccio Olympia — 31791c8a.zip, sha256 7d5180d91892d6461056b57ab01ace4eb5b8850141fe91650aa6d66c6e37e411. Preserved with its SHA-256 hash in the library's records.

Why this page exists alongside the Gawain Poet page. The Good Works Library already holds the Middle English text of Pearl in full, independently edited, under Works of the Gawain Poet. This is not a second copy of that text. It is a different, later edition of the same poem — Gollancz's 1921 apparatus (introduction, notes) and his own modern-English verse rendering — plus his edition of Boccaccio's Olympia, printed here as the poem's nearest medieval analogue. Nothing on this page duplicates the Gawain Poet page's claim to be the library's Middle English Pearl.

What is included, in full: Gollancz's Prefatory Note; his complete Introduction (manuscript history, the poem's plan and sources, its metre and the Pier delle Vigne sonnet comparison, its links to Cleanness, Patience, and Gawain, the Huchown question, and the "philosophical Strode" investigation); his complete modern-English verse rendering of all 101 stanzas of Pearl; his Explanatory Notes (continuous line-by-line commentary); and his edition of Boccaccio's Olympia — his editorial note on the poem's textual history, his own dedicatory sonnet linking the two elegies, his translated extracts from Boccaccio's letters to Petrarch and to Fra Martino da Signa, and the Latin text and English verse rendering of the Eclogue itself, complete.

What is omitted, and why. Three parts of this edition are not reproduced here:

1. The Middle English facing text of Pearl. Gollancz printed the Middle English on pages facing his modern rendering — cleanly separable by page (ME recto, English verso), and separated as such. But the Middle English itself is Cotton-Nero-manuscript spelling set in a period typeface, and the HathiTrust OCR mangles þ (thorn) and ȝ (yogh) inconsistently within single lines and even within a single repeated word (þat appears in the scan as "fat," "Jjat," "))at," and ")5at" within a few lines of each other). A confident, word-by-word restoration of 1,212 lines under those conditions was not achieved in this pass, and the poem's Middle English text is not owed to this page in the first place — it already stands, independently edited, on the Gawain Poet page. Rather than ship a partly-guessed diplomatic text under Gollancz's name, this page omits it and directs the reader to that page.
2. Gollancz's Textual Notes (his list of manuscript readings and his emendations to them, printed as a section preceding the Explanatory Notes). This is a compact critical apparatus of short Middle English word-fragments, not continuous prose, and suffers the same thorn/yogh corruption as the facing text, at a granularity (single garbled words, no surrounding sentence to anchor a reading) where restoration is least trustworthy. Omitted.
3. Gollancz's Glossary (some sixty pages of alphabetical Middle English headwords with etymologies). Same reasoning as (1) and (2) — a dense list of short word-forms, heavily thorn/yogh-mangled, without the sentence-level context that makes the Explanatory Notes restorable. Omitted for length and reliability alike.

Mechanical cleanup applied to what is included: Project-Gutenberg-style running heads, page numbers, and scanner debris were stripped; hyphenated line-wrap breaks were rejoined; prose paragraphs were unwrapped from the scan's own line breaks. A small number of individual OCR letter-errors in the modern-English rendering and in the Introduction/Notes prose (e.g. "roU'd" for "roll'd," "£" for "of," "Enghsh" for "English," decorative drop-capitals split across two OCR lines and reassembled) were corrected against internal sense and metre; none of this touches wording or content, only letterforms mis-scanned by HathiTrust's OCR. The Latin text of Boccaccio's letters and Olympia received the same class of mechanical correction (ligatures, obvious letter-scan errors such as "ilamma" for "flamma") and nothing further — no line of the Latin was emended against any other authority, per the brief's instruction to preserve it exactly as printed in this edition. A handful of Greek words quoted in Gollancz's Olympia introduction are themselves scan-garbled beyond confident correction and are left as the OCR gives them.

Stanza numbering in the Modern Rendering (I–CI) was supplied by this transcription for reader navigation. Roman numerals are legible in the scan for roughly half the stanzas; every one of those was checked and matches straightforward sequential count from stanza I, so the unlabeled stanzas between them were numbered by the same sequential count, not invented. Gollancz's finer subdivision of the poem into twenty five-stanza sections (marked "§" in his text) was too inconsistently legible in the scan to reproduce with confidence and is not attempted here; the poem's own well-established structure — 101 stanzas in twenty sections of five, save section fifteen's six — is described in the reader introduction above instead.

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